


Because of You

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Boys Kissing, Dalton Academy, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt finds a journal wedged between the books of the Dalton library, and even though he knows he shouldn't, he starts reading it. Before too long he's fallen in love with the journal's owner. Things get complicated when he finds out who the owner of the journal really is. (If you read my one-shots from tumblr you've probably already read this, but here it is all in one place :D)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Idea of You

Without a doubt the library at Dalton had to be Kurt’s favorite place in the whole antiquated building. It was quite simply a huge room constructed of honey-colored wood with towering bookcases crammed full of books, mostly classic novels with rich leather covers and gold embossed spines. It was a quiet sanctuary that looked like it could have come straight from the pages of a Jane Austen novel. The room from floor to ceiling smelled of age and virtue and wisdom. Kurt could be found there before and after school, even on his lunch break. He often got lost in those stacks for hours.

For a long time he thought the music room where they held Warbler rehearsal should be his favorite, but it was pretty much just a reminder of how the Warblers, at heart, were a group of young men who didn’t seem to appreciate his uniqueness and originality. Besides, they already had their star in the form of Blaine Anderson, their goblin king. Kurt smirked. He knew he shouldn’t think that way about his boyfriend, but sometimes he just couldn’t help himself. Blaine had told him that the students of Dalton all wore uniforms because they were a group, with no one person shining out more than anyone else…that is unless you’re Blaine, apparently.

 _Ugh_. Kurt felt so conflicted. He didn’t want to be jealous, but, there you go. He was.

Kurt tried not to think about; tried to let the tension diffuse through his fingers and into the books he ran them over. He pretty much knew the order of the books by heart without having to look at the titles.

_‘The Count of Monte Cristo…Just So Stories…A Christmas Carole…’_

Kurt smiled. He didn’t actually understand the system Dalton used to organize their books. It really made no sense.

_‘A Tale of Two Cities…’_

His fingers fell in a space right where _Crime and Punishment_ should be.

Kurt looked at the shelf where his fingertips rested on a worn leather journal he had never seen before. He looked around for the librarian, but she was nowhere to be seen. He pulled the book down slowly, expecting at any second that someone would come over and claim the misplaced book, but none of the other students around him seemed to notice. He held the book in his hands, painfully curious, dying to crack the well-worn spine, but he hesitated. It looked like a personal journal…maybe even a diary.

But if it was, why would it be stuck here on the shelf?

It looked expensive. The soft leather cover alone was probably worth a few hundred dollars. Whoever this book belonged to must be looking everywhere for it. He could just turn it in at the front desk, but there was no guarantee the book would find its owner shoved in among countless forgotten sweatshirts, sunglasses and cell phones. No, he had a duty to this gorgeous journal since he had been the one to find it.

He would just open the front cover and look for a name.

He opened the book reverently to the inside cover, and then the first page, but there was no name to be seen. He flipped through the pages of perfect, neatly written script, and sighed as his eyes swept over the fluid, expressive handwriting. Kurt always felt you could tell so much about a person by how they wrote, the way they dotted their ‘I’s and crossed their ‘t’s, whether the words lifted at the ends, or stuck down in the line they were written on.

Kurt’s own handwriting was almost calligraphic.

Blaine sort of wrote like an over-enthusiastic fifth grader.

Without meaning to, his eyes stopped on a page with a four line passage…a poem…and he read…

_“In his eyes_

_Ice and fire meet_

_And when I see them, my tongue is struck dumb_

_Every…single…time…”_

Kurt held his breath. A poem. A _love_ poem.

Another boy in this very school – another _gay_ boy – who wrote love poems.

Oh dear spaghetti monster in the sky!

Kurt flipped to another page, another poem.

_“How stupid…how childish…how truly masochistic to love someone you’ll never have…_

_At least I can love the idea of him…”_

Oh… _unrequited_ love. Even better.

Kurt closed the journal and held it to his chest protectively, feeling a little paranoid as he escaped to his special corner of the library. His chest ached with guilt at reading someone else’s private thoughts of love, especially a love that might never be fulfilled, but he needed to see this through. He needed to follow the clues and find out who this was…

…and maybe, just maybe, he could bring these two lovers together.

On and on he read, page by page, captivated. He almost heard a voice reading the words to him in his head.

_“He deserves roses, and I am no more than a thorn, and I keep pricking at him, aggravating him, filling him with hate for me…_

_…because if I can’t have his love, I’ll take his hate if that might turn his azure eyes on me…”_

Azure eyes, Kurt mulled. Azure means blue. Blue eyes. So the love of this boy’s life had blue eyes.

He smiled.

_“He sings like angels and like sirens,_

_It calls to my heart and to my blood,_

_I would woo him,_

_I would love him,_

_I would set him on fire,_

_And I would tell him so,_

_But at five o’clock I’m there staring in at the door,_

_I cannot approach him,_

_I cannot touch him,_

_All I can do is wait another day…”_

He sings…at five o’clock every day he sings… _holy shit!_

Kurt bounced on the floor where he sat, feeling a little giddy.

Every day at five o’clock!

He’s a Warbler. Whoever wrote this book is in love with a Warbler.

Kurt couldn’t remember ever seeing someone hanging around the doorway peeking in on their rehearsals…not that he ever paid much attention. Today he would. Kurt tried to remember who in the Warblers besides him had blue eyes. He bit his lip. He would need to find some stealthy way to check.

The longer he read, an unexpected side effect seemed to overwhelm him. He was falling in love; falling in love with the words in this book, and the anonymous author roaming the halls of school. He knew it was irrational. He knew it was unreasonable, especially since he had a boyfriend who, for all intents and purposes, was sweet and kind and devoted, who serenaded him with cheesy love songs and texted him meaningful song lyrics.

But those were other people’s words.

Whoever this book belonged to, these words belonged to them, came from their heart…

…and were meant for someone else.

Kurt swallowed hard and sighed.

The time for fantasies and dreams was over.

With a heavy heart he closed the book and stood from his hiding place. He would turn it in at the front desk and pray every day that the proper owner found it, and in his head he could put the fairy tale to rest.

Some very special, amazing man in this school was missing out on true love.

He emerged from the stacks and ran headlong into a frazzled looking Nick Duval.

“Hey, Nick,” Kurt said, trying to sound more carefree than he felt.

“Hey, Kurt,” Nick answered back, but then his hazel eyes fell on the book in Kurt’s arms and his entire body relaxed. “Oh thank heavens,” he sighed, pulling the leather journal from Kurt’s folded arms. Kurt felt a cryptic loss the minute the book left his arms. “I’ve been looking for this everywhere.”

“Oh, well…there it is,” Kurt said lamely. “I found it on the bookshelf. I was about to turn it in.”

“Then it’s a good thing I found you first,” Nick sighed, his relief palpable, and in a small measure it cheered Kurt up.

But suddenly there was another problem.

A couple of them actually.

Kurt was certain, positive actually, that Nick was head over heels for Jeff Sterling, but Jeff had _brown_ eyes.

So, who was the mysterious stranger Nick had been writing about?

And probably more daunting, was Kurt actually in love with Nick Duval?

No, he thought, giving himself a mental shake. Nick was one of his closest friends. He couldn’t be. That would be too weird for words.

He definitely wasn’t in love with Nick Duval, though the sudden inexplicable feeling of heartbreak settling in his chest would beg to differ.

“Well, I’ve got to get going,” Nick said, slightly perturbed by his friend’s daydream expression.

“Yeah, sure.” Kurt watched Nick retreat, wondering if he shouldn’t just confront him, if for no other reason than to ask who the blue-eyed siren was that Nick had fallen in love with.

Common sense kicked in, and Kurt decided to wait. He watched Nick walk out of the library, turning around once to wave at Kurt, still looking slightly confused.

There were too many overwhelming questions, too many riddles.

Kurt couldn’t just fall in love with someone from reading their journal. That’s impossible. Even if it _was_ possible, this is apparently Nick Duval. Nicky. Kurt refused to fall in love with Nick.

What about Blaine?

They had passed the simple handholding stage a long time ago, but they hadn’t gone much further than heated make-outs and a few awkward hand-jobs. Not much that went on between them curled Kurt’s toes anymore, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to make that feeling come back.

It might if Blaine said he would _set him on fire_ …

Kurt had started walking without taking much notice, his body moving on autopilot out the heavy double doors. He heard laughter coming from the far end of the hall, and when he turned the corner his heart froze in his chest. Nick stood with his head bowed, his face a strange mask of discomfort and distress while Sebastian and Hunter cackled like the hyenas they were, and in Sebastian’s hands, open to some arbitrary page, was the leather journal. Kurt felt heat rise to his cheeks, burning through the ice that kept him rooted to the spot where he stood. He barreled down the hallway, unsure exactly of his next move, with his eyes fixed on that beautiful book, spurred on by everything it held, everything it must mean to Nick…everything it had come to mean to _him_.

He caught Sebastian off-guard and snatched the book away, holding it to his chest with his arms crossed over it. All three boys stared at him in surprise, but Sebastian’s cheeks in particular started to grow pink.

“What the fuck, princess?” Sebastian growled.

“Those are _his_ thoughts, and feelings, and words, and you don’t get to take them! You don’t get to exploit them for your cruelty! You don’t get to make fun of him for it!”

“You…you read it?” Sebastian stuttered, and the color seemed to drain from his face.

“N-not intentionally…” Kurt stammered, unsure why he was still talking about this with Sebastian when he should just turn the journal back over to Nick. “I found it in the library. I thought it was just a book…and why am I still talking about this with you?”

“Kurt,” Nick intervened, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and squeezing gently, “that journal isn’t mine. It belongs to Sebastian.”

Kurt almost dropped it. His eyes shifted from face to face around him. Nick looked sympathetic. Hunter looked way too amused. Sebastian’s expression was blank.

“But I thought…no! No, it can’t! It’s not…”

Kurt looked down at the worn leather book filled with beautiful poems, random thoughts, and passionate essays on life and indecision…and love. He felt betrayed. He felt his soul break. He saw himself falling in love with the boy who wrote this book.

But Sebastian?

Why did it have to be Sebastian?

Sebastian, the meerkat-faced asshole?

Sebastian, the bane of his existence, who hovered and lurked, always with some insult, always with some evil taunt…

Sebastian, the constant thorn in his side…

Thorn…

_Oh no…oh God no…_

Kurt’s hands shook as he turned the journal over to its owner, and then without another word he shot back down the hall, his cheeks on fire, his heart in his throat, his knees so weak they barely carried him, the blood rushing in his ears so loudly he didn’t hear Sebastian call out to him, or the sound of his footsteps when he started after him down the hall.


	2. The Reality of You

“Kurt! Kurt wait! Kurt stop!”

Kurt couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop, because stopping would mean facing whatever Sebastian had to say. What could he say? He wrote the journal. He couldn’t lie it away. But there was another option, and that scared Kurt more than all the taunts and insults and jabs that Sebastian could sling.

So Kurt kept on running, but Sebastian was faster, being a touch more athletic, and he caught up to Kurt before he could escape to the senior commons.

“Leave me alone, Sebastian,” Kurt cried when he felt Sebastian’s hands curl into his blazer and drag him to a halt. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, too bad, princess,” Sebastian said, pushing Kurt up against the nearest wall inside a small recess out of sight of the main hall. “You read my journal, so now you have to let me explain.”

“Fine,” Kurt said. He shook Sebastian’s hand off his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. “You have five minutes. Explain.”

Sebastian sighed, looking down at his feet to avoid gazing into Kurt’s eyes because if he did, he’d tell him everything; all the feelings he kept locked inside, all the things he wasn’t ready to admit to anyone, not even himself, which was why he started the journal in the first place. Kurt’s eyes had a strange power over him. They definitely had the power to undo him completely.

He opened his mouth several times, finding different places to start, but he couldn’t do it. Not an inch of truth would come out.

“Four minutes,” Kurt counted down, and Sebastian scowled.

“God, you’re such a fucking know-it-all bitch, aren’t you?” Sebastian groused. Sebastian finally found strength enough to meet Kurt’s glare eye to eye.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you read in this book…” he started his lie, but Kurt stopped him.

“I think the boy who wrote that book is scared,” Kurt said softly. “I think that book is the story of someone overwhelmed by his feelings, who doesn’t know how to express them…”

Sebastian wanted to argue, wanted to cut Kurt down and leave no doubts that he was wrong, but he wasn’t wrong. Sebastian had been holding onto the truth for so long, he was tired of hiding from it anymore.

His lie died on his lips and he sighed, bowing his head, pressing so close to Kurt it was almost uncomfortable.

“Did you finish it?” Sebastian asked, looking down at the book in his hands.

“No,” Kurt said with a shake of his head.

Sebastian nodded. He put the book gently in Kurt’s hand, and closed his fingers around it.

“All I ask is that you don’t show it to anyone else,” Sebastian said, his voice shaking a bit. “After that, just…pitch it…or burn it. I don’t care. But I’m done talking about this.”

Sebastian turned and left without looking back. Kurt heard his heavy footsteps ring down the marble hallway until they became fainter and fainter.

Kurt looked down at the book in his hand and for the first time saw it for what it was.

Self-preservation.

***

Sebastian should have felt lighter, a weight lifted by giving up that infernal book. In essence, by giving up that journal, he also gave up his obsession with Kurt Hummel.

So why did he feel sick to his stomach?

Giving up his journal was risky. It was the most private, most personal – most real thing he owned. It was literally his heart and soul scrawled over about a hundred or more pages, but he had a feeling that Kurt, for all of his flaws (whatever they may be) would not be the kind of asshole to show it around.

Over the next week, the damned thing haunted Sebastian. He saw it just as much now that Kurt had it as he did when it was in his possession. Everywhere Kurt went, he carried the journal with him. At first, it annoyed Sebastian to no end. He wanted to just snatch it away from him and throw the fucking thing out himself, but he couldn’t, because as much as it was a reminder to him of his feelings, it also made him feel like Kurt was carrying a part of him around with him. Sebastian watched Kurt carefully. He saw how protective Kurt was of it, he watched Kurt’s face when he read it – the way his lips lifted into a tiny smile, or dipped into a frown. A few times Kurt gasped, putting his hand up over his mouth, and Sebastian wished he could peek over Kurt’s shoulder, wondering what in the world he had written that would elicit that kind of response.

Just then, Blaine came up behind him and tried to read over Kurt’s shoulder. Sebastian had an urge to get up and shove him out of the way, tell him to mind his own business, but Kurt got to it first, slamming the book shut, and when he did, Sebastian got a glimpse of something new – a gold fabric bookmark that Kurt had wedged between the pages. Sebastian felt a warm tingle all over at the idea that Kurt got a special bookmark just for his pathetic journal. If Sebastian wasn’t so totally head-over-heels (and he had to admit that he was head-over-heels at this point) it would have made him sick.

Sebastian couldn’t tell what Kurt and Blaine were talking about, but Blaine reached a hand out to try and open the journal back up, and Kurt swiftly slapped him on the back of the hand, causing Blaine to pull his hand back with a cartoonish look of hurt on his face. Sebastian chortled, and when both faces turned toward him, he bolted from his seat and rushed away.

Sebastian used to write in the journal at nights in his room, when his homework was finished and he was alone with his thoughts. But now those thoughts just kept him awake, with no outlet to rid himself of them. He originally thought of buying another journal and starting up again, but the purpose of giving away the journal was to stop writing about Kurt.

Besides, his thoughts belonged with the original book…and its new owner.

“Well, shit,” Sebastian muttered after his fifth night of insomnia. He pushed himself out of bed, ready to perform an act of unadulterated self-harm. He pulled out from his desk drawer an antiquated writing set his mother had bought him his freshman year, proving that she really didn’t know much about her only son. It was a calligraphy set complete with faux parchment paper and a whole selection of pens with fancy silver writing nubs and multi-colored inks. It even came with a wax sealer, and a die with just his initial on it.

He could have just gotten out a pen and a regular sheet of notebook paper, but he thought that maybe Kurt would like this better.

_“It’s late…_

_And the school is dark and quiet and cold…_

_And I can’t help thinking how much warmer it would be…_

_If you were with me…”_

Sebastian folded the brief letter and stuck it into a parchment envelope. Then he dug out a lighter and melted the wax, waiting patiently until enough of the wax had collected on the paper. He pressed the die into the warm wax and when he pulled it away, he was pleased to see a perfect ‘S’. He took the small letter and carried it down the quiet hall to Kurt’s room and slipped it beneath the door, with a flip-floppy feeling in his stomach – equal parts elation and nausea.

Kurt never approached Sebastian to tell him that he received the note. Regardless, Sebastian sent him a new one every night.

_“You always have to find a way to be you…_

_Stuck in this boring prison_

_of academia and tradition…_

_Today you wore a blue Lion’s Head brooch on your blazer…_

_And even though it was small and relatively indistinguishable…_

_It was just another way of saying, “Fuck you, world! I’m Kurt Hummel”_

As the days went by, Sebastian began to notice the journal growing, puffing up with the additional letters that Kurt glued onto empty pages in the back of the book, till Kurt was balancing his world history book and his calculus book on top of it to keep it from bursting open.

***

“Kurt, can we talk?”

Blaine fidgeted where he stood above his boyfriend, shifting from foot to foot. Kurt looked up at him from over his copy of _Macbeth_ and smiled, but like most of his smiles lately, this one didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Sure,” Kurt said, kicking a chair out from under the table and motioning for Blaine to sit. Blaine took the chair, and looked around, noticing the journal Kurt always carried around with him, the one he never let Blaine read, pressed beneath two of his text books.

“What’s with that journal?” Blaine asked, taking a tangent from his original subject of discussion to address Kurt’s latest obsession.

Kurt shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. He didn’t like it when Blaine tried to get him to talk about the journal. In some ways he felt wrong carrying it around with him, with being in love with it so much…with the feelings he might be starting to have for Sebastian; feelings he refused to admit, though it was getting more and more difficult with every new letter that found its way underneath his door. On the other hand, Blaine was a little far from a perfect boyfriend himself lately. He hadn’t asked Kurt out on a date for the past two weeks. Romance had been limited to late night sexting. But the worst part was the way Blaine had started treating Kurt in Warbler rehearsal. He was always so paranoid about how everyone would perceive him now that he was dating Kurt. He didn’t want to seem like he was playing favorites, which Kurt definitely understood, but that meant Blaine either tore down all of Kurt’s ideas when he came up with one, or he simply didn’t acknowledge him at all.

“I told you, it’s just something that gives me inspiration,” Kurt said. It was a lie of omission. It did give him inspiration. Sebastian’s words of love and devotion gave him inspiration.

“Then, why won’t you let me read it,” Blaine asked, staring at it as if Kurt would just turn it over to him if he looked at it long enough.

“Because it’s private,” Kurt said, like he had many times before. “And I don’t feel comfortable with you reading it.”

Blaine sighed, not ready to continue this argument here in the library.

“I wanted to ask if we could talk about what happened in Warbler practice earlier today,” Blaine started slowly, “with that suggestion you made for a Sondheim medley.”

“You mean the one you shot down without even putting it to a vote?” Kurt bit back. He had just managed to forget about that little piece of humiliation he had to suffer today, especially in front of the other Warblers…and Sebastian.

“Yeah…um…I was hoping that maybe…you’d stop doing that.”

Kurt’s eyes flicked up from his book and he glared at Blaine.

“What do you mean, ‘stop doing that’?” Kurt asked, his voice flat but venomous. Blaine shifted in his seat, looking down at his folded hands, and then back up at Kurt.

“Yeah, Kurt. When you make suggestions like that, you kind of put me in a difficult position.”

“What position is that, Blaine?” Kurt asked, an edge of irritation coloring his voice. “The one where you act like a mature, benevolent leader and let the Warblers decide if my idea is a good one, or the one where you treat me like I’m five and humiliate me?”

“Look,” Blaine said, “I know you’re upset, and I deserved that. But I think I found a compromise we can both live with.”

“And what’s that?” Kurt closed _Macbeth_ and tossed it on the table, crossing one leg over the other and looking significantly into Blaine’s eyes.

“Well, when you have an idea, discuss it with me outside of Warbler rehearsal, and if I think it’s feasible, I’ll present it to the Warblers myself.”

“You’ll present it?” Kurt asked incredulously. “As in, like your idea?”

Blaine scrubbed his hands over his head and sighed.

“Kurt, I just don’t know what else to do.”

“You could always try…oh, I don’t know…treating me like everybody else!” Kurt started gathering up his books, ready to storm out of the library.

“But you’re not like everybody else, Kurt.”

Kurt stopped. For the past few weeks he had been waiting for a moment – like the one in the library when he first found the book and first started falling in love with its mysterious author. _This_ was a moment. Blaine might still have it in him to be the romantic boy that Kurt fell in love with. They could pull through and make it, and that journal Kurt had been carrying around…maybe it was just a book. What Kurt had with Blaine was real. Somewhere deep inside he felt that it was a possibility.

“I’m not?” Kurt asked, watching Blaine’s face change, morphing into a soft, boyish smile.

“Of course not,” Blaine said. “You’re my boyfriend, and because of that we have to be careful.”

Kurt sighed. The moment disappeared, but Kurt owed it to Blaine to give him another chance.

“Blaine, can you do me a favor?” Kurt asked, eyes flicking down to the overflowing journal.

“Anything.”

“I’ll agree to your…compromise,” Kurt said, the last word causing bile to rise to his mouth and sting his tongue, “if you do something for me.”

“What is that?”

“Write me a poem?” Kurt beseeched, eyes pleading with Blaine for him to be a better boyfriend than he’d been for the past few weeks.

“Write you a poem?” Blaine asked, his nose scrunching.

“Or a story, or a song, or three sentences describing something you like about me. Just something that’s yours…before next Warbler rehearsal.”

“Sure,” Blaine said, sounding a bit confused. “Anything for you, Kurt.”

Kurt sighed, relaxing into the crook of his boyfriend’s arm when he wrapped it around his waist and led him along.

That night, Kurt sat up in his bed in the dark and considered all the decisions he’d have to make in the next few days. He was sure his choice would be easy. Blaine would definitely come through for him. He’d have his poem or his song or his three sentences. Maybe they could turn it into a thing, start their own journal, writing back and forth little poems of love and devotion and it would only make their relationship stronger.

Kurt thought about the possibilities all day, about new beginnings and second chances. When he reached the rehearsal room, he saw Blaine talking with Thad and Trent. He bounced over to him and put out an expectant hand, grabbing at the air with his fingers. Blaine smiled, wide and warm, and slipped his hand into Kurt’s, turning back to his conversation with the other two boys. Kurt frowned, shaking his hand from Blaine’s grasp and repeating the motion again.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked. “What’s the matter?”

“Isn’t there something you want to give me?”

Blaine stared blankly at Kurt, and then his eyes went wide.

“Oh God! Kurt! I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

Kurt’s hand dropped from the air, his entire body shrinking as Blaine rambled off excuses about putting together set lists and modifying arrangements, but Kurt stopped listening. He looked around the room at the boys clustered in groups in corners, talking together and otherwise ignoring them except for one, standing by an armchair by the door, looking at him with sympathetic green eyes. Kurt turned away from Blaine, probably mid-sentence, and headed straight for Sebastian. Sebastian’s eyes shifted left and right, his brow furrowing at Kurt’s determined approach. Kurt reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a book – a journal, nowhere near as fancy or expensive as Sebastian’s, but neat and clean and so completely Kurt. He handed the journal to Sebastian, waiting a moment for him to take it. Sebastian felt his heart in his chest, racing desperately to be free of its cage. He reached out carefully and took the book, taking a moment to flip through it and see page after page written in Kurt’s delicate, flowing handwriting.

Sebastian said nothing, simply held the book to his chest, as if protecting it symbolically from the eyes of the world. Kurt smiled and nodded, leaving the rehearsal room without a single look at his stunned boyfriend.

Sebastian looked up at Blaine, watching his hazel eyes bounce frantically between him and Kurt. Sebastian slid the journal into his bag and away from Blaine’s view. He didn’t want Blaine looking at it, or anyone for that matter. The journal belonged to Kurt and Kurt gave it to him. Sebastian picked up his bag and followed suit, leaving the rehearsal room on his way to his own room.

For the first time, Blaine Anderson realized that if he didn’t do something quick, he was going to lose his boyfriend.


	3. My New Dream of You - Part 1

Sebastian walked straight to his room and shut the door. He dropped his bag on his bed and sat down beside it, reaching a hand inside and pulling out Kurt’s journal. He held it in his hands but he couldn’t make himself open it. He stared at it, examined it, running a finger up and down the spine, feeling the rough texture of the cover beneath the pads of his fingertips. He measured the weight of it in his hands, and as confused as he was by Kurt giving it to him, it comforted him, too. He wasn’t sure what he would see when he opened it. It might be completely empty; Kurt’s secret way of asking him to write more for him. Of course, Kurt could very well have written 100 plus pages of ‘Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou’, and Sebastian, for his part, recognized that he probably deserved it.

Kurt hadn’t seemed too happy with Blaine when he walked out of the music room. Whatever Blaine had said to Kurt in those seconds before Kurt turned and left seemed to be the culmination of something monumental between them; but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d go running into Sebastian’s arms.

Was that what Sebastian wanted? He wanted Kurt; he knew that for sure, and not just for his body the way most people would likely assume, but for his brilliant mind, his heart, the strength of his convictions. He had complicated, involved dreams about making Kurt his, maybe even making Kurt fall in love with him, but Sebastian didn’t exactly do the boyfriend thing. Boyfriends, in his experience, were a lot of work, and Kurt looked like he could be pretty high maintenance.

He had to admit, though, that it might be worth it.

Sebastian turned the journal over in his hands while he contemplated his own true intentions. If he wasn’t willing to see this through, opening Kurt’s private journal had the potential to do more harm than good. If something Kurt wrote between these pages made Sebastian more infatuated with him than before, his fate would be sealed. There would be no turning away from Kurt Hummel.

After flipping it over and over and not getting anywhere, he decided to at least crack open the cover and see if Kurt wrote anything on the inside: a dedication, an author’s note, or maybe just his name. A small note slipped out, stuck into the spine like an afterthought. Sebastian plucked it out and opened it.

_Sebastian –_

_I asked Blaine to write me a poem. I didn’t want much. I just wanted something from the heart; something that expresses how he really feels about me. If you’re reading this note and you have this journal, that means Blaine didn’t write me the poem I asked him for. A simple little poem. I would have taken a single line if that’s all he had to give. He’s supposed to be in love with me, and he couldn’t write me one tiny little poem. You barely tolerate me and you wrote an entire journal. What does that say about me?_

_Sincerely;_

_Kurt_

Sebastian read the note over and over, but he read the last line twice as many times since it nearly shattered him.

_What does that say about me?_

Sebastian grimaced that Blaine’s lack of attention and consideration would make Kurt doubt his self-worth. He would have to address that in another letter, but for right now the book was open and Sebastian decided it was as good a time as any to see what Kurt had to say.

Every page he saw was filled front and back. Sebastian skimmed them quickly, but he didn’t see a single ‘fuck you’, so he flipped back to the beginning and read it word for word.

_I don’t understand._

Those were the first three words Kurt wrote.

_I don’t understand._

Sebastian chuckled.

“You and me both,” he muttered. “Join the club. We have jackets.”

_I don’t understand how you can say all those beautiful, romantic things in your book about me. Do you really feel that way? I’ve become so comfortable with the idea that you hate me – or at the very least that you despise me. You have no respect for me. You tell me and show me every day. You criticize my clothes. You make fun of my voice. You correct my French even though I know that my translation and accent are impeccable. Everything about me seems to infuriate you. You’re constantly trying to pull me apart. You don’t seem like you’ll be happy until you’ve broken me down into so many pieces that I would never be able to put myself back together again. So how can you say that you think those things about me?_

Sebastian felt every word stinging him, sticking him like a dagger to his heart. He read and he read, but fifteen pages in it got harder and harder to make out the words on the page; because Sebastian’s hands shook.

Because Sebastian had started crying.

Fifteen pages of hurt. Fifteen pages of confusion. Fifteen pages of anger and grief that Sebastian had caused. He tormented Kurt to keep him at arm’s length. He wanted him, and yet he treated him like dirt. Sebastian probably would have just continued on this way, assuming that his was the only heart being torn apart by not admitting his feelings and giving Kurt the chance to accept or reject him.

He forgot there were two hearts in this equation. He forgot there were two people being hurt.

_So many times I looked at you, and you stared through me like I was nothing, like I was less than nothing, and I wondered without trying to care just how it was you could think so little of me. What did I do? What did I say? Students at McKinley bullied me for being gay. I was tossed in dumpsters for being out and proud. But you seem to dislike me simply because I exist. I came here to escape the pain of that hate, and I was happy…until I ran into you. Now I read your journal and discover that hate was just a front to hide your feelings; but it felt so real that I don’t know how to forget it._

_Is it worth it for me to try and learn how?_

Sebastian closed the book and slammed it down beside him on the bed. He sobbed, almost unable to breathe, wiping at his eyes with his fingers to clear his blurry vision. He stood, literally launching himself off the bed with unnecessary force, walking away, putting distance between himself and the book. Guilt ate away at him, gnawing at his soul and his brain with all the terrible things he had said to Kurt in the past, the ways he tried to drive a wedge between him and Blaine.

He could have let him be; he could have let Kurt be happy, but no. He had to be selfish. He had to be stupid. Sebastian grabbed handfuls of his hair in both hands and pulled hard, grunting through clenched teeth more from revulsion then pain. He kicked his desk chair hard, turning it over onto the floor. He kicked it again and again, ridding himself of all his frustration. He stopped only after he heard a sickening crack and thought he might have broken his toe. He wiped his eyes again and caught a glimpse of his desk clock.

7:37 P.M.

He had been locked in his room reading Kurt’s journal for over two hours.

In another 23 minutes he’d miss dinner but that didn’t matter. He didn’t have much of an appetite anyway, but he did need to get out of the dorms and get a breath of fresh air. Sebastian shoved the journal under his pillow and headed out of his room, racing as quickly down the hall as house rules would allow. The hallways were pretty active at this hour with students walking to and from the dining hall, most of them already dressed in regular clothes for the night. A low murmur surrounded him from groups of boys talking and laughing. A few shot a hello his way, but he ignored them, his eyes trained on the double doors ahead that led outside.

He was so close; so close to escaping when Kurt crossed his path –dressed in skinny jeans and a long sleeve, deep blue dress shirt that complemented his eyes perfectly. He waved good-bye to Jeff and Nick, laughing at something they had said, oblivious to a bedraggled Sebastian barreling down the hall, about to cross his path. Sebastian saw him and choked, skidding to a stop and looking around for a room he could duck into. Kurt turned and saw him as he stumbled a step away from him. Their gazes locked and Sebastian noticed the way Kurt’s eyes softened, the way his whole expression seemed sad, or sorry. He read the emotions on Sebastian’s face and he knew.

Sebastian wanted to run and forget about all of it; forget about Kurt and the journal, and lock his heart back away in that stone safe it had been happily suffering in for however long since he had first met Kurt Hummel.

He couldn’t. He had opened the book. There was no going back for him, but he wasn’t sure how to go forward.

He bounded down the hall toward Kurt, and Kurt simply watched him curiously. He grabbed Kurt’s arm and pulled him, looking erratically from side to side until he found what he wanted. He dragged Kurt through the door to a nearby classroom.

Sebastian ushered Kurt in and closed the door behind him. Kurt didn’t say a word. He looped his arms around Sebastian’s neck and held him, hugged him. For the first time since they’d known each other, Kurt embraced him with his whole body, pulling him close to give him comfort.

Sebastian hated it. He wanted to push away, but this was Kurt, and Sebastian was beginning to understand that Kurt wasn’t just this thing that he taunted for his own amusement, and he wasn’t the summation of a few flowery words on a page. He was flesh and spirit and his exceptional mind and his sharp tongue.

He was everything that Sebastian never knew he wanted.

Sebastian wound his arms around Kurt’s body and held him tight. He sighed, melting into Kurt’s arms.

He didn’t know what possessed him to cross the line from hugging to kissing, but without even completely comprehending what he was doing he felt himself pressing his lips gently against Kurt’s skin. He kissed up Kurt’s neck, slowly from his collar to behind his ear. Kurt gasped, trying to step back; a halting, stuttered movement, but when Sebastian wouldn’t let him go he fell into Sebastian’s arms. Sebastian cradled Kurt’s head in his hands and looked into his blue eyes. They stared back at him, wide and trusting, open and honest.

Sebastian breathed him deep, that alluring smell of sweet and spicy and warm, all swirling together in his head, making him feel dizzy.

That scent and the emotions that came with it would always remind Sebastian of Kurt.

Sebastian dropped his head in defeat of those eyes and that smell that would haunt him every day, but right now, they weren’t his to enjoy.

“I’m not going to do it,” Sebastian whispered, shuddering, at war with himself, “I’m not going to turn you into a cheater.”

“Sebastian?” Kurt whispered when he started to walk away. Sebastian shook his head.

“Come to me when you’ve made your decision,” Sebastian said. “I’m not going to push myself on you.”

Sebastian turned and walked out of the room, and rules be damned he sprinted for the outside doors, breaking through them with a deep inhale that failed to erase the scent of Kurt from his head.

He ran across the parking lot. He jumped the fence to the lacrosse field, and he kept going.

***

Blaine saw the notes passing back and forth between them – in classes, in the hallways, after Warbler practice. They were definitely subtle enough. Kurt would palm a note into Sebastian’s hand when they got up from the table after lunch, and Sebastian would slip one beneath the cover of Kurt’s math book in Calculus class.

It wasn’t the existence of the notes that bothered him. Blaine passed notes back and forth with his friends all the time. No, it was the way that Kurt’s face lit up when he opened one and read it. Once when they were studying late, a note made its way beneath Kurt’s door. Kurt didn’t read it, just squirreled it away into his desk drawer, but the way his eyes shone, he looked like Christmas had come early.

What made it worse was that Kurt wouldn’t let Blaine read even one.

Blaine burned with curiosity to see those notes but Kurt wouldn’t show him. Every time Blaine brought them up Kurt would immediately change the subject. The tension over the notes grew into a full scale argument one night while they were studying in Blaine’s bedroom for a literature final.

“But why won’t you let me see them?” Blaine asked, looking up from his book to get Kurt’s full attention which he didn’t seem willing to give at the moment.

“Because they’re really none of your business,” he said, eyes still skimming the words of _The Count of Monte Cristo_.

“They _are_ my business,” Blaine insisted. “You’re my boyfriend and you’re passing secret notes to another guy.”

“Really?” Kurt said, lifting his gaze from his book to peer at his Blaine’s accusing hazel eyes, “What about you? What about all those texts you guys used to send each other? And the pokes on Facebook?”

“Those were all family friendly,” Blaine argued.

“How do I know?” Kurt slammed his book shut. “You never let me see any of them!”

“Because they…”

“…were none of my business?”

Blaine sighed.

“Because they didn’t matter,” Blaine said calmly.

Kurt’s mouth dropped, his brow furrowed. He shook his head with a small, humorless laugh.

“Here!” Kurt stood from his seat. He grabbed a bunch of small notes out of his pocket and dropped them in front of Blaine. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

Kurt started opening the notes and reading them out loud, dumping them in front of Blaine when he finished.

“Kurt – do you really think that Edgar Allen Poe was a necrophiliac? Kurt – can I borrow your history notes? I fell asleep in class again. Kurt – could you please tell Blaine that Katy Perry is old hats? And we all know he has a hard on for Adam Levine but maybe we could lay off the Maroon 5, too. Kurt – could you please consider lending some of your patented girl clothes to Mrs. Marx? If I have to look at another one of her plaid pant suits I’m going to get up during Speech and Debate and punch her in the neck.”

Kurt took the remainder of the notes and showered them into Blaine’s lap.

“Here’s the rest of them. While you read these, I’m going to go finish studying in my room.”

Kurt gathered together his books, stuffing them into his bag while Blaine sputtered, trying to find a way to convince him to stay.

“Kurt…I’m sorry. You’re right, I really shouldn’t have…”

Kurt sprinted from Blaine’s room before Blaine could figure out the right thing to say that would stop him. He watched Kurt go, sorry for having pushed him, for having doubted him. He racked his brain for some way of making it up to him. Maybe he could get the Warbler council to give him a solo at their next competition. Blaine collected the discarded notes, folding them up neatly and piling them on his comforter. He swept his eyes around his room to make sure he got them all, preparing to take them back to Kurt’s room and apologize again.

On the floor where Kurt had been sitting, Blaine saw a folded piece of paper, almost kicked beneath the bed. He scooted across the mattress and bent low to pick it up.

This note looked different than the others. The notes Kurt had shown him were all written on lined notebook paper, but this one looked like thick parchment, cream colored, with a wax seal affixed to the back. Blaine opened it carefully, trying not to crack the seal. Blaine read the note over quickly, his heart stopping in his chest at the simply written one line poem –

_Every day I am luckier than I was the day before for having one more chance to see you._

Blaine wanted to crumple the paper in his hand, to tear it into tiny pieces and toss it in the trash, but he couldn’t. The note didn’t belong to him, and Kurt might notice that it was missing and come back looking for it. How would he explain destroying it? Blaine looked over the note, and then examined the wax seal which had one single initial embossed into it – the letter ‘S’.

Blaine shouldn’t destroy the letter. It was proof, and it was a warning.

A warning that he had better move quickly if he was going to hold on to Kurt.


	4. My New Dream of You - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note - is you see a hyperlink on the word "poker", don't click it.

“Did you see that toss that Foley made?” Sebastian laughed, wiping the sweat off his brow with his towel. “What the fuck’s up with that weak ass right arm?”

Sebastian double checked his cleats for mud clods before he walked through the door to the dorms. He was thoroughly exhausted from practice and all he needed was another nag fest from Cedric the janitor for tracking mud over the floors. Sebastian often wondered if Dalton Academy actually paid the man to clean or to argue with the students.

“What do _you_ think’s up with it?” Derek, his co-captain, laughed, making a rude gesture up and down his lacrosse stick with his hand. Sebastian shook his head and chuckled.

“Yeah, well, considering how long it’s been since he’s seen Cynthia I imagine that right hand of his sees a lot of action,” Sebastian quipped. “No wonder he can’t pass worth shit.”

Derek nearly doubled over with laughter, clapping Sebastian on the shoulder.

“You would think all that exercise would improve his wrist strength,” Derek choked out.

“No way, man,” Sebastian said. He caught a pair of intense eyes staring at him from across the commons and his laughter died a bit in his throat. “Have you ever heard of carpal tunnel? Repetitive motion sickness?”

Derek broke down again, laughing enough for both of them since Sebastian stopped laughing when the pristinely dressed Warbler eying him from across the room got up from his seat and approached the two lacrosse co-captains.

“Hey, Derek,” Blaine said with the impression of a sincere smile on his face, but Sebastian couldn’t help the feeling that something about his cheerful demeanor felt off. “You guys have a good practice?”

“Hey, Blaine!” Derek raised a hand and offered Blaine an enthusiastic high-five. “Don’t you know it!”

Derek only knew Blaine in passing. They had the same A. P. Biology class together. Derek wouldn’t sense anything wrong with Blaine, but Sebastian saw it hiding in the dark glint in his eyes, the way they shifted from Derek’s face to Sebastian’s, lingering for longer than necessary, and then back to Derek.

“You should consider trying out for the team,” Derek offered. “We can always use a few more guys who know their way around a stick.”

Derek chuckled at his own joke, his eyes squinting, tears racing down his cheeks. Blaine chuckled halfheartedly along with Derek, gluing his gaze back to Sebastian’s face.

“Nah, I’m more of a boxer,” Blaine said, addressing Sebastian more than Derek. “I’ll leave the lacrosse sticks to you two Neanderthals.”

“You’re all right, Blaine,” Derek said, but Sebastian, watching the emotions shift on his face, the way his eyes narrowed one minute and then shined with the reflection of his smile the next, wasn’t convinced.

“Would you mind if I stole Sebastian for a bit?” Blaine asked. “There are some things I need to confer with him about. You know, Warbler to Warbler.” Blaine elbowed Derek in the side playfully, and Derek sniggered.

“Be careful, Blaine. You have a boyfriend, remember?” Derek teased. He turned to Sebastian and for the first time noticed the unexpected change in his friend’s expression; from joking to solemn in almost the blink of an eye.

“Hey, is everything okay, Seb?” Derek asked.

“Yeah,” Sebastian said after a pause, forcing on a smile that he hoped would pass for okay, “I’m good. Go shower, Der. You stink.”

“Like you smell any better,” Derek said, waving his hand in front of his nose and making a disgusted face. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“It’s a date,” Sebastian called after him, keeping one wary eye on Blaine.

“Geez, man,” Derek whined, “don’t say that out loud.”

Sebastian waited until Derek was far enough down the hall to be well out of earshot, and then turned his attention to Blaine who wasn’t smiling any more.

Blaine stared at Sebastian; his hazel eyes roaming over Sebastian’s body uncomfortably from his sweaty hair stuck in clumps around his face, down his dirt and grass stained uniform, all the way to his soiled socks and shoes. By the time his eyes returned to Sebastian’s face the disturbingly bright smile had returned.

Sebastian always called it Blaine’s ‘superstar’ smile, but in reality it was more along the lines of Blaine baring his teeth.

“Let’s sit,” Blaine offered, motioning to one of the tables lining the main hallway. Sebastian nodded, taking the seat closest to him as Blaine slipped into the chair opposite. The tables in the hallway were small and on the side of being claustrophobic when you added the amount of shrouded anger radiating off of Blaine’s body.

Blaine looked down at the table, eyes tracing the veins of gold in the faux marble table top as he gathered his thoughts. He cleared his throat and Sebastian rolled his eyes, wishing Blaine would get whatever this was over with so he could go shower the mud and sweat off his body before dinner. Dinner was an hour away, and it felt weird admitting to himself that he wanted to clean up and dress nice for Kurt when Kurt’s boyfriend sat mere feet away.

“Why do you keep writing Kurt poems?” Blaine asked, raising his eyes to Sebastian’s face.

Sebastian wore his poker face as close to perfect as he could get it. He didn’t want to seem surprised that Blaine knew about the poems. Realistically he knew that he would end up finding out eventually, but one thing Sebastian knew for sure was that Kurt wouldn’t have willingly let him see them so Blaine had to have snooped. That made Sebastian livid, thinking that Blaine would feel so privileged as to rifle through Kurt’s private things.

“How come you couldn’t write him _one_?” Sebastian countered.

“Whether or not I write him a stupid poem is none of your business,” Blaine said calmly. “He’s _my_ boyfriend, not yours.”

“He’s my…friend,” Sebastian said, but his argument sounded weak even to his own ears.

“Since when?” Blaine cut Sebastian off with a bark of laughter. “Would that be when you said he had a bad luck case of the gay face, or those times you flirted with me?”

Sebastian opened his mouth, and then closed it, swallowing Blaine’s accusation.

“Yeah, he told me about that,” Blaine said smugly. “He told me about all the insults. He tells me _everything_.”

Sebastian paused to choose his words carefully.

“Kurt and I…” Sebastian started, trying to find an ambiguous way to describe the new relationship they’ve developed, “we’ve worked out our differences.”

“Have you?” Blaine asked sarcastically.

“Yes, we have,” Sebastian said, his voice tight. “I’ve changed.”

Blaine scoffed and shook his head; Sebastian bristled at his condescension.

“People change,” Sebastian defended.

“No, I don’t think you _have_ changed.” Blaine leaned over the table; smirking superiorly, grimacing with odium – his face couldn’t seem to decide what emotion it wanted to portray. “I think the only thing that really changed is that you couldn’t get into my pants, so you decided to try and get into my boyfriend’s pants instead.”

Every inch of Sebastian’s skin went cold with rage; his hands gripping hard onto his lacrosse stick, threatening to break it in two.

“I’m not trying to get into your boyfriend’s pants, Blaine,” Sebastian growled. “But if you’re afraid there’s even a chance that he would leave you for me, don’t you think you should be hard at work trying to find some way to win him back instead of bitching and whining at me?”

“Why do I need to win him back?” Blaine challenged. “He’s mine. I already won him. You’re implying I have to win him back from you, but why would I need to do that unless you were making moves on him?”

A tense silence fell between them as Sebastian tried to find a way to rise to Blaine’s challenge. How could he defend himself against something that was partially true, even if this all started mostly by accident?

Echoing footsteps from the far end of the hall interrupted the stalemate, and Blaine sat back down in his seat, adjusting his uniform jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles with a shaking hand.

“Hey Blaine! Sebastian!” Thad said as he walked passed them.

“Hey, Thad!” Blaine recovered so quickly that Sebastian nearly got whiplash watching him. His mood shifts were becoming unsettling, and Sebastian’s stomach turned thinking that Blaine might go straight from this conversation up to see Kurt in his room.

“I’ll see you guys later for Warbler practice.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sebastian said, but he couldn’t affect a fake smile as convincingly as Blaine could. Thad frowned at him, but nodded at a grinning Blaine before continuing down the hall and out the doors.

Blaine turned back to Sebastian and the scowl returned.

“There’s no way Kurt is going to leave me for you, Sebastian, and do you know why?”

Sebastian knew it was a rhetorical question, but out of morbid curiosity he sat and listened because nothing Blaine could say would be worse than the things he had already told himself a hundred times before.

He smirked, leaning forward to close the gap between him and Blaine.

“I’m all ears, Blaine,” Sebastian sneered. “Let me have it.”

“Because you’re a bully, Sebastian,” Blaine said. “And if there’s one thing that Kurt hates it’s a bully.”

Sebastian’s cocky grin slipped an inch, and Blaine smiled wider.

“Kurt’s had to fight bullies before,” Blaine continued in the same soft, menacing voice. “We fought them together. So you can write him all the poems you want, Smythe, but at the end of the day, he’s mine. He kisses me…he wants me…he _loves_ me. So back off!”

A lump grew in Sebastian’s throat as Blaine’s eyes burned into his, but he refused to look away. Blaine pushed his chair back from the table and stood, holding Sebastian’s gaze, the cheerful façade returning to his face, switching on like a light.

“So, that’s the end of that,” Blaine said. “Hey…I’ll see you at practice.”

Blaine winked at Sebastian, patting him on the shoulder as he walked away. Sebastian, too paralyzed by his own conflict of moral and reason, turned and watched him go. Blaine had a point. Who was Sebastian really to try his hand at winning Kurt’s affections? Sebastian _was_ a bully, and always had been where Kurt was concerned. He had expected a confrontation on Blaine’s part, but nothing like this. This was a side of Blaine that Sebastian had never seen before. He was curious if Kurt had.

Adrenaline coursed through the blood in his veins, the rush of it pounding in his ears, sounding like it had no intention at all of stopping. From that moment on Sebastian made a mental note to keep a close eye on Blaine Anderson.

***

Kurt scribbled down a few equations on his paper, then compared them to his graph.

“So the limit is negative one,” he mumbled, and checked his graph again. “Or positive two?”

He huffed and erased his equation for the fifth time, holding the paper taut so he didn’t rub a hole through the thinning paper. Calculus wasn’t his favorite subject, but it usually didn’t give him this much trouble. Kurt slammed his pencil down on his desk and dropped his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair with frustration. How was he supposed to do math when all he could concentrate on was the feeling of Sebastian’s lips sliding up his neck, searing his skin with kisses everywhere they touched? Sebastian might be gone, but the marks still remained, a scalding hot brand embedded in his skin. Kurt subconsciously ran his fingers lightly over them, searching them out.

Kurt was so confused. He didn’t know where to go from here. If Sebastian had tried to kiss him weeks ago, before he found that book, this would all be so simple. A hard shove, a slap to the face, and his weekly scheduled make-out session with Blaine would scrub all of this off his skin and out of his memory. But now…he had no answers.

To top it off, Blaine would be there any minute. Kurt debated whether or not he should tell him. If another boy had kissed Blaine, even on the neck, even if it meant nothing, Kurt would want to know.

If it meant nothing.

Did it mean nothing?

For now it had to. He was still Blaine’s boyfriend, and till he made a decision otherwise, anything Sebastian had to offer he needed to push to the side.

Kurt jolted from his thoughts and turned in his chair at a slight tapping sound against his door. It swung open a crack and Blaine peeked his head inside.

“Is it safe to come in?” he asked, sweeping his eyes around Kurt’s room.

“Yeah,” Kurt said, turning back to his homework and moving on to the next Calculus example. He blinked as the dense, black expanse of sines, cosines and unidentified variables darkened the page. “You were supposed to be here a while ago. You know your Calc homework isn’t going to do itself.”

“I know, I know,” Blaine said, walking up to Kurt’s chair. He put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and placed a light kiss on the back of Kurt’s head, peeking over at the example he was laboring over. “For number nineteen, the limit does not exist.”

“Thank you!” Kurt sighed in relief, fixing his graph and the consequent equation. Kurt looked up at Blaine who stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

“Where have you been, anyway?” Kurt asked, trying to figure out the strange way Blaine’s eyes examined his face. “You’re almost an hour late.”

“I could tell you, but I don’t think you’d believe me,” Blaine said, acting intentionally vague.

Kurt sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, eyes hardening, not in the mood for guessing games when over thirty more Calculus examples had to be finished by tomorrow.

“Try me,” Kurt said.

Blaine sighed, looking at Kurt, his face frighteningly serious.

“I was in the main hall neutering a large dog.”

Kurt’s jaw dropped, stunned by Blaine’s off the wall response, but then Blaine smiled, and Kurt smiled with him, laughing awkwardly at his odd answer.

“Actually, I went to get you this.” Blaine pulled his arm from behind his back and handed Kurt a newly opened long-stemmed red rose.

“Blaine!” Kurt gasped, his cold eyes and confused face melting into a soft smile. “It’s beautiful. But what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Blaine said, sitting down on the bed, tugging Kurt’s arm and pulling him off his desk chair to sit down next to him. “It’s more of an apology.”

Blaine eyed Kurt as he sniffed the rose, a subtle blush rising to his smooth, pale cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine continued, “for the past few weeks…and the poem…and for making you feel like your opinion isn’t important. It is important.” Kurt turned from the rose to look at Blaine. “You’re important.”

“Really?” Kurt whispered, holding the rose close to his heart.

“Really,” Blaine said. “And I thought that maybe we can kind of start new? Expand our horizons?”

“I don’t understand,” Kurt said, suddenly struck by a sense of déjà vu when the words left his mouth.

“Well, remember all those things we added to your bucket list?” Blaine asked. Kurt’s cheeks went a shade redder and Blaine knew he understood. “I thought we could start there.”

“W-where…exactly?” Kurt asked, remembering some of the more racy things they had added after Blaine have Kurt a heated hand job in his room.

“How about we head over to Scandals this weekend?”

Blaine smirked, leaning in close to Kurt and speaking against his neck right below his ear, his breath covering one of the spots that Sebastian had kissed.

“Isn’t Scandals a bar?” Kurt asked, scooting across the bed and putting a bit of distance between himself and his boyfriend.

“Yeah.” Blaine gently kissed down the length of Kurt’s neck and Kurt sighed. It was nice. Neck kisses were Kurt’s favorite, and Blaine knew it; but it wasn’t the same now.

Blaine’s kisses were sedate and tame.

Sebastian’s kisses burned…just like he said in the journal. They set Kurt on fire.

Kurt trembled at the memory.

He wanted to burn some more.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it felt like, repulsed by himself for using Blaine’s kisses to relive that memory, but it didn’t work.

“How are we going to get into a bar, Blaine?” Kurt stammered. “We’re not 21.”

Blaine trailed his tongue up the length of Kurt’s neck and Kurt wanted to cry. His stomach churned into a knot, pulling hard until the stabbing pain shot up into his chest. Blaine was his boyfriend; he should want this, want to be kissed by him after so many weeks of feeling neglected. But the image of a wrecked and ruined Sebastian racing down the hall, finding him, pulling him into an empty classroom and holding him, kissing him, wanting him…

The kisses…

The journal…

All those words…

His green eyes…

His hands holding his head…

Kurt didn’t know what to do. He felt trapped, but he couldn’t let Blaine wash those kisses away. He just couldn’t. Maybe Kurt was the worst boyfriend in history, and maybe if there is a hell he’ll be down there in the fire suffering for all eternity, but right now he didn’t care.

Kurt broke away from Blaine’s kiss and stood, moving back to his desk chair, panting and breathless from the pain in his stomach that walloped him like a fist.

He looked up and saw a sudden flash of anger in Blaine’s eyes.

It was fleeting, and maybe Kurt imagined it.

There seemed to be nothing he was altogether sure of anymore.

“Jeff knows a guy who can get us some fake i.d.’s,” Blaine continued, flustered but otherwise nonplussed, hazel eyes shining back at Kurt fondly.

Whatever Kurt thought he saw definitely gone.

Kurt folded his hands in his lap, weaving his fingers together as he thought. Last week he couldn’t get Blaine to take him to a movie because he had to spend the weekend perfecting a set list, and now they were going to drive a couple hours out of their way to go to a gay bar? Maybe Blaine was actually trying to work on their relationship. Shouldn’t Kurt give him the benefit of the doubt?

A tiny voice in the back of his mind objected, but that voice sounded an awful lot like Sebastian, so how could he trust it completely?

Kurt watched Blaine’s eyes change into those sweetly pleading, puppy dog eyes that managed to do him in every time. Kurt rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Turn down the cute, Blaine,” Kurt giggled. “I’ll go.”

“Yeah!” Blaine cheered, standing up off the bed and hugging Kurt tight. He nuzzled Kurt’s neck, breathing him in, grinning happily against his skin, and one thought entered his brain.

_Mine._


	5. My New Dream of You Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to get up. I think there will only be one more chapter after this, but who knows! I hope you enjoy. (Warning for mention of Blaine/Klaine.)

_Knocknocknocknocknocknock…_

Spitfire pounding like the firing of an old school gatling gun on Sebastian’s dorm room door interrupted his not too effective studying for the AP French test he had first period in the morning. Not that he really needed to study; he spoke the language like a native, but he had hoped that reviewing gerunds until his brain bled would distract him from thinking about Kurt, Blaine, and that fucked up conversation in the hallway the day before. If it had just been the usual back and forth sarcastic banter that he normally traded with most opponents, he could brush it off and move on. But the way Blaine talked, especially about Kurt, disturbed him. Blaine had gotten under his skin and wouldn’t leave him be, like a sore you can’t stop itching even after the wound is healed over. He knew that Kurt was a big boy who could take care of himself, but Blaine was as close to Kurt as any human could be, and because of that, Sebastian began to worry about him.

If Kurt did something that upset Blaine, would Blaine go off the deep end and hurt him?

The knocking continued relentlessly, untiring, joined by a second fist filling in the off-beats, and Sebastian knew exactly which Dalton delinquent darkened his door.

“For God’s sake, Sterling!” Sebastian called out loud enough for the manic boy to hear, “just come the fuck in already!”

“Hey, Bas…” Jeff started speaking even before he opened the door, “do you still know that guy that makes fake i.d.’s? The dude that works at Kinko’s?”

“Maybe,” Sebastian said, not even the least bit curious. “Wait, didn’t you have a guy?”

“Yeah, but it looks like he got arrested or something.”

Sebastian scoffed.

_Amateurs._

“Why do you need fake i.d.’s for?” Sebastian toyed with Jeff, deciding to prolong his suffering. “Are you thinking of taking Duval to a strip club or something?”

“It’s not for me,” Jeff said, hopping up onto the edge of Sebastian’s desk. He plucked a pencil from a cup on the blotter, positioned it on his upper lip, and rolled it up towards his nose. Sebastian watched Jeff violate his pencil with a look of disgust.

“Who is it for, then?” Sebastian asked, then added, “You can keep that pencil, by the way.”

“Blaine needs them,” Jeff said, crossing his eyes as he tried to watch the pencil balance on his upper lip, bouncing beneath his nose while he talked. “He’s taking Kurt to some bar in Lima. _Sandals_ I think he said it was called.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up. He turned to Jeff, fixing him with a piercing glare that he meant for Blaine.

“Scandals?” Sebastian clarified.

“No…” Jeff replied, staring off into the distance while he searched his memory for the name.

“Jeff,” Sebastian said, blowing out a breath, his whole body rigid with frustration, “the name of the bar is Scandals.”

“No…” Jeff said again, racking his brain. Sebastian shoved him hard off the edge of the desk. Jeff flailed to keep his balance, scowling at Sebastian for a second, but when he caught sight of the pencil still poised on his lip, he gave a silent cheer of triumph, his arms raised like goal-posts in the air.

“When did Blaine say they were going?” Sebastian pressed. He felt an urgent need to run off and find Kurt; to talk to him and maybe give him a clue that…that what? His boyfriend might be mentally unstable? That he might even be dangerous? Sebastian had to face facts. He didn’t know a single person who attended Dalton who would buy that. In fact, before that little incident in the hallway, if someone had tried to convince Sebastian that Blaine wasn’t ‘all there’, he would have laughed out loud. Dapper, a gentleman, a nice ass, a little too much into his raspberry scented hair gel and top 40 hits, but otherwise harmless.

As it turned out, maybe not so harmless.

“Uh, well, he wanted them before this weekend, and I know he’s got that family dinner Sunday night, so my guess is Saturday, maybe.”

Sebastian nodded his head, filing away Jeff’s intel. Luckily, Jeff didn’t seem to catch on to the fact that Sebastian was more interested than he originally let on.

“So, will you do it?”

Sebastian started formulating a plan. Knowing the management at Scandals it probably wouldn’t stop them from getting in, but it might slow them down.

“Yeah, I’ll do it, but this is between you and me, Sterling,” Sebastian said, standing from his desk and backing Jeff into a corner. “Don’t tell Blaine you got them from me.”

“Why not?” Jeff muttered, oblivious to the fact that he was being herded, or that Sebastian was staring at him like his life depended on his discretion.

“I just don’t want him to know, alright?”

“But…”

“Sterling,” Sebastian said, “keep it a secret or Duval’s parents find out exactly who he got mono from last semester. Dig?”

Jeff’s eyes widened at the threat.

“Harsh,” he said. “That’s not cool, man.”

“Then I think we understand each other.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Jeff slid down the wall sideways to get away from where Sebastian had him pinned. “So, I’ll pick them up…”

“You’ll get them when you get them,” Sebastian said dismissively, returning to his desk and his list of a hundred French verbs. Sebastian didn’t watch Jeff leave. He stared blankly at his book and waited till the squeak of Jeff’s Converse sneakers died out down the hall. Then he got up from his desk and ran off to find Kurt.

***

Kurt stopped in the hallway, double-checking his bag for his French text book. He had a whole night of studying planned. He had to do at least as well as Sebastian on this test or he’d never hear the end of it. In fact, he had a note in his possession from the man himself telling him so. Kurt grinned, thinking of all the good-natured teasing that would follow a subpar (meaning not an A+) grade. He envisioned note after note flying beneath his door like Harry Potter’s Hogwarts notices from _The Sorcerer’s Stone -_ each one written on that thick, marbled parchment paper Sebastian used, and sealed with wax - and saying pretty much the same thing:

_“Dear Mr. Hummel:_

_You are cordially invited to suck it because I got a higher grade than you…”_

Cheekily, his mind supplied the line:

_“You can perform said sucking in my dorm room on Saturday night.”_

Holy hell! What was he thinking?

Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, you have a boyfriend!

A boyfriend who had been lukewarm about _being_ a boyfriend as of late.

A boyfriend who couldn’t be bothered to follow through with a simple request.

A boyfriend whose current idea of a romantic date was getting fake i.d.’s and going to a gay bar.

Kurt wasn’t completely sure why he had agreed to go in the first place. He really didn’t want to go, but sometimes it was hard to say no to Blaine. Kurt could understand Blaine wanting to go on a date after so long with so much emotional turmoil between them, but if Blaine wanted to dance with him, they could always put on some slow music in Kurt's room, dim the lights, and dance there. It would be nice – alone, without the noise, the stench of stale beer, or the occasional solicitation.

Call him silly, but the idea of bathroom sex never did appeal to Kurt. It sounded filthy, uncomfortable, and a bit demoralizing. Kurt closed his eyes for a second, thinking about an evening of slow dancing in his room, but in his mind it was Sebastian’s body pressed against his, swaying back and forth to an old, melancholy love song, and not Blaine's, the spicy scent of Sebastian’s cologne lingering in his nostrils (Kurt didn’t know when he had set that smell to memory), Sebastian placing hidden kisses in his hair. He opened his eyes to look down into his bag, hand locked around the spine of his French text book, and in the bag’s contents all he saw was Sebastian – Sebastian’s journal, Sebastian’s notes folded together and wrapped in gold cord, the pencil Sebastian had lent him when Kurt’s went missing before their last test, his homework with Sebastian’s corrections scrawled into the margin along with a few raunchy doodles and an X-rated haiku.

All roads seemed to point to Sebastian, so why wasn’t Kurt taking them?

Kurt folded the flap down over his bag and took a step, but a strong hand grabbed his arm and dragged him into a nearby room.

Kurt didn’t even need to look up into the smirking boy’s face to know who would manhandle him that way. Except when he did look, the boy wasn’t smirking.

The boy looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Seriously,” Kurt muttered, fixing his jacket, checking to make sure the fabric hadn't torn, “is this going to turn into a thing with you?”

“I needed to talk to you,” Sebastian said, “in private.”

“Well, you could have said something like, ‘Kurt, can I talk to you in private?’”

“I heard that Blaine is taking you to Scandals.”

Kurt stopped fussing over his jacket and looked Sebastian in the face.

“Yeah. It’s kind of like a date, I guess. Why?”

Sebastian sighed, taking Kurt’s hands and holding them. It was a painful indulgence, but it was the only one he would allow himself to have.

“You know why,” Sebastian said, a simple statement that took all of his strength to say and left him emptier since he had already guessed what Kurt’s response would be.

Kurt sighed.

“Sebastian, I have to at least give him the chance to make this up to me. He _is_ my boyfriend.”

Sebastian hedged over a few words, statements, declarations, his mouth hovering around sentiments and then swallowing them back.

“Do you still love him?” he asked finally. It sounded a lot better than what he was really thinking. _Don’t I even have a chance?_

“I…” Kurt’s knee jerk reaction was to say yes, of course yes, I love him, but when the time came, the words refused to leave his mouth. He did love Blaine, but it didn’t seem the same anymore. Even if he would always love Blaine, he had seriously started to consider whether or not he and Blaine made sense anymore. It wasn’t something he wanted to admit out loud, not yet, and not to Sebastian. There was no need to give Sebastian hope where they might not be any.

“I…I know what you’re getting at, Sebastian,” Kurt said sympathetically, “I do. And I’m thinking about it. I promise.”

Sebastian let go of Kurt’s hands and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at his black Oxfords against the maple-washed hardwood floor.

“Sebastian, I’m still getting used to the idea that you like me,” Kurt argued, “and I don’t know, but I feel like I need to give him a shot.”

Sebastian’s pride ached. He knew from the beginning that this was how the conversation would probably go, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t entertained the fantasy of Kurt denouncing Blaine completely and falling into his arms. Regardless, there was another pressing matter at stake, and Sebastian couldn’t let Kurt leave until he warned him.

“Kurt, there’s something I need to tell you,” he started, “about Blaine.” He rolled his own eyes at how trite and lame that sounded, but he couldn’t think of any other straightforward way to broach the subject.

“What about Blaine?” Kurt’s brow knit in the center and he crossed his arms, stepping backward to put some space between them. Sebastian didn’t know if Kurt was preparing to defend Blaine blindly in favor of listening to what he had to say. He hoped that he knew Kurt better, that Kurt would have more sense than that.

“Do you think…” Sebastian started and stopped, thinking the whole conversation through in his head before he started again, “…have you ever…when Blaine gets…angry…ERRR!”

“Sebastian…” Kurt gazed up into his eyes with a look of honest confusion, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to…”

Sebastian gave up. Even with all his good intentions, knowing that he was right, there was no way for him to win.

“Just…be careful,” Sebastian said in exasperation. “Be careful around your boyfriend.” The words stung Sebastian’s mouth, and he longed to kiss Kurt and soothe the bite, but he didn’t. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t want to turn Kurt into a cheater.

“I will,” Kurt said with a smile. He stepped up to Sebastian and put a hand on his arm. Kurt wanted to hold Sebastian, to feel his body against him, but he couldn’t be that cruel. This small, friendly gesture was all he had right now to give. Sebastian sucked in a quick breath at the feel of Kurt resting his hand on his arm. He wanted to hold onto that feeling in case he never got it again.

Kurt walked past Sebastian and out the door, heading back to his dorm room and the long night of studying ahead of him.

Sebastian exhaled, balling his hands into fists and squeezing them until his hands shook. ‘ _Stupid, stupid, cowardly, stupid!’_ he chanted in his head as his fingernails pressed into his palms and left crescent moon marks in his skin. He had his chance and he blew it. What was he thinking? Sebastian sank down into a heavy leather armchair, burying his head in his hands. He had a few days. Maybe he could still turn things around.

Except that in the end he didn’t have those days. Blaine glued himself to Kurt’s side and never left. He walked Kurt to and from every class, they ate all their meals together, they studied late into the night. At one point, Sebastian went for broke and slipped a note beneath Kurt’s door. He figured Kurt would see it and intercept it, Blaine or no Blaine, but Kurt must have been in the bathroom because an hour later the note made it’s way back underneath Sebastian’s door, unopened and unread, with a message scrawled across the outside: _Good try, but no more of that, Sebastian. – B_

Sebastian barely ate; he didn’t sleep. Before Kurt went to Scandals with Blaine, before whatever Blaine intended on happening…happened, there were some things he needed Kurt to know.

His only chance came about fifteen minutes before Kurt and Blaine were set to leave. Sebastian watched Blaine walk out to the parking lot to get his i.d.’s from Jeff. Sebastian knew exactly when this would go down because he had asked Jeff to call Blaine out into the parking lot to hand them off. He needed to get Blaine out of the dorms if he was going to have any chance of talking to Kurt alone. Once he figured Blaine was far enough away, Sebastian raced to Kurt’s room. His heart traveled steadily up his chest the whole way there so that by the time he knocked on the door he could feel it pounding in his throat.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he heard Kurt sing out, though not in the chipper, upbeat way he usually sounded. It broke Sebastian’s heart that Kurt sounded nervous. It broke more to think that maybe, just maybe, Sebastian was the reason why he sounded that way. Kurt turned the doorknob. Sebastian saw it swing open and he didn’t wait. He pushed himself inside and closed it behind him, turning the lock so they wouldn’t be disturbed if Dapper Dan came back earlier than expected.

“Sebastian! What the…” Kurt stumbled backward as Sebastian led him, stopping once his back came in contact with the wall. Sebastian boxed him in, one hand leaning against the wall on each side of his head. Kurt felt Sebastian, even though he didn’t lean the weight of his body against him. Sebastian’s breath washed over his skin, warm and chill all at once, smelling slightly of peppermint and coffee. His body trembled from being so close, and Kurt found it was contagious, his own body shivering in response.

“Y-you said you wouldn’t push yourself on me,” Kurt stuttered, his words rushing out to reach Sebastian when, in this moment, it seemed that Sebastian might cross another line. His lips hovered so close, his eyes burning the way they always did when he got Kurt alone - in a way that filled Kurt with so much excitement that he almost crossed the line himself. In these seconds between decision and indecision, Sebastian seemed so dangerous. He was a head taller than Kurt, faster and stronger - Kurt didn’t have to see him dominate the field during lacrosse practice to know for sure (though admittedly he had peeked once or twice).

Kurt wasn’t afraid.

A little part of him, a new and unexplored part of him, wanted it.

“I’m not pushing myself on you.” Sebastian’s voice, breathless and devilishly sexy, sent Kurt’s imagination whirling again, picturing Sebastian lying beside him, panting, spent, quivering lips devouring sweaty skin. Kurt swallowed and wished it away. It made keeping himself grounded so much harder.

“I just have something I need to say, and I need you to hear me.”

Kurt nodded, his head banging lightly against the wall as he pressed himself further against it.

“Okay,” Kurt squeaked.

“Okay,” Sebastian repeated, using that word as his jumping off point, hoping he’d land on his feet when he finished. “Kurt, I fell for you the first moment I saw you…”

Kurt heard himself gasp, even though the choked sound seemed overly dramatic and cliché. He couldn’t help himself. He remembered that first day in the Lima Bean, the look that he interpreted as derision in Sebastian’s eyes, the way his lips formed a perfect ‘o’ of surprise when he reached out a hand to shake his, the way his eyes continuously flicked back and forth between his face and Blaine’s, as if in saying, “You have got to be kidding. There’s no way this gorgeous guy is in love with _you_ , lady face”.

“…but I couldn’t afford to feel that way. I couldn’t afford to want you that way, but I didn’t want Blaine to have you, either. So I tried to push you away and I tried to split you guys apart. That’s why I went after Blaine. I thought I could kill two birds with one stone.”

Kurt stared up at Sebastian with morbid curiosity, his face adrift somewhere between amazement and disgust at the confession he heard. It made sense in a bizarre, twisted way. The fact that Sebastian’s mind worked so sinisterly that _that_ was the conclusion he came up with astounded Kurt. He would have shoved him away. He was fully prepared to tell him to leave and never come back if Sebastian hadn’t leaned in closer and whispered in a voice on the verge of shattering, “Please, please, please believe me when I say I am so sorry for valuing my own asinine stupidity over you…over what’s in your heart. I’d give anything to go back and change it all. I swear to God I would.”

Sebastian pushed off the wall and stormed out of the room, leaving a bewildered and bereft Kurt standing with his eyes open wide and his mouth ridiculously agape to wonder what exactly he was supposed to do now.


	6. My New Dream of You - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing on from where Sebastian left Kurt in his bedroom waiting for Blaine. This is a partial re-write of ‘The First Time’. Warning for underage drinking, attempted sexual assault, physical violence, anxiety and mild PTSD. Also Klaine/Blaine.

When Blaine returned to Kurt’s room, he found Kurt stunned, paralyzed, standing up against the wall, trembling from the top of his perfectly coiffed and newly highlighted hair down to his knees, which knocked together in his too-skinny-to-be-healthy dark wash jeans.

“Kurt?” Blaine crossed the room, looking all around in case he was missing something. “Kurt? Are you alright? You look like you’ve just seen a rat or something.”

“No, not a rat,” Kurt said, turning blown blue eyes to Blaine’s concerned face. “I just…” Kurt shook his head, recovering slowly, forming some semblance of a smile on his unnaturally pale face. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yup,” Blaine said, his expression quickly morphing from concern to excitement as he patted the jeans pocket that held his wallet and now two fake i.d.s. “Let’s get going.”

Kurt drove; he always drove. He input the address of the bar into Google maps on his phone and let Blaine fiddle with his iPod, picking out songs for a road trip playlist. He remembered the days when they first started dating and they would find any excuse to go for a drive - Friday night dinners with Kurt’s family, McKinley High football games, Glee concerts, almost daily coffee at the Lima Bean because their nonfat mochas tasted better than the Starbucks in Westerville (regardless of the rumored mouse problem). He and Blaine would sing perfectly practiced flirty duets the whole ride, and it meant so much to Kurt that they could be so in sync. Now as Kurt’s thoughts drifted to the conversation he had with Sebastian causing him to miss his entrance during a rousing rendition of Pink’s _Perfect_ , he realized that all he and Blaine did on these car rides was sing. They really never talked; not about the important things, at least, like goals, ambitions, or the future.

Kurt knew the basics. He knew Blaine’s coffee order. He knew how Blaine felt about the Katy Perry vs. Lady Gaga debate. He knew that Blaine preferred bowties to neckties, and that his favorite brand of hair gel was Cover Boy (which was apparently extremely expensive). On some of the more important subjects, Kurt found he was actually rather clueless.

Kurt never made a secret of the fact that he wanted to go to school in New York, more than likely Julliard. Sebastian told Kurt that he planned to attend NYU. As far as Blaine went, Kurt didn’t know what college he was considering.

Kurt always saw himself on Broadway. He was in love with the bright lights and the stage, the audience applause. Sebastian wanted to join his father’s law firm. Blaine…Kurt assumed he would pursue music, but as a singer, songwriter, on Broadway, Kurt had no idea.

Kurt figured he would have children someday.

Sebastian did, too.

But Blaine…

“Kurt?” Blaine shook Kurt’s knee gently. “Kurt? Where are you?”

“Uh, what do you mean?” Kurt asked, side-eying Blaine in the passenger seat.

“Well, you missed all your entrances in the last song, and you stopped singing altogether about two minutes ago.”

“Oh,” Kurt said, looking down at the map on his phone screen to see how far they still had to go.

Another forty-five minute drive.

Kurt stifled a groan.

“I guess I’m just a little bit nervous about going to a gay bar, that’s all.”

Blaine smiled, satisfied with Kurt’s half-lie.

“Just relax, sweetie,” Blaine reassured him. “It’ll be fine. You’ll enjoy yourself. You’ll see.”

Kurt let his eyes leave the road for a second to take in the image of Blaine reclining on the seat beside him, arms folded behind his head, staring at Kurt with a strangely devious expression.

Kurt shrugged, fully prepared to listen to Blaine count off all the reasons why Kurt shouldn’t be nervous. After all, that seemed like the sort of thing boyfriends would talk about prior to going to a bar with illegally obtained documentation, but not too surprisingly, they didn’t. The conversation died when Blaine said, “You’ll see.”

Blaine moved on with the playlist, launching into the first verse of _Last Friday Night_ , seamlessly taking over both his and Kurt’s parts since Kurt obviously didn’t feel like contributing to the sing-a-long. Kurt continued the rest of the drive in silence.

He used that time to try and decide where he really saw himself after this night was over.

They pulled into the parking lot of Scandals just as _Defying Gravity_ finished, a song Blaine had queued up in hopes of coaxing Kurt into participating, calling him a spoiled sport when, after the first refrain, Kurt still hadn’t started singing.

“Come on, Kurt,” Blaine whined, “that high F is just waiting for you.”

“Sitting down and in these jeans?” Kurt scoffed. “I don’t think so, Anderson.”

Kurt turned into a parking spot and cut the engine. Blaine undid his seatbelt and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He opened it up and pulled out Kurt’s new i.d., handing it to him with a slight flourish. Kurt looked dumbfounded at the Hawaii issued driver’s license. A picture of a middle-aged man stared back at him; a head of dark, curly hair almost covering his brown eyes, and a bushy moustache on his upper lip.

“Wha—this is absurd! This picture doesn’t look anything like me!” Kurt protested while secretly doing his best to contain his glee. The picture on Blaine’s license looked equally dissimilar to its supposed owner. Kurt mentally breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way they were getting into a bar with these horrible fakes. They’d have to leave and go back to Dalton with their tails tucked between their legs.

“They’ll work,” Blaine assured him, leaning over and kissing Kurt’s cheek before opening his car door and hopping out of the vehicle. Kurt wasn’t so sure. He was so confident they would be turned away that he nearly skipped behind Blaine all the way to the door. He handed his i.d. over to the bouncer, who immediately rolled his eyes with a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ expression. He shined the light of his flashlight down on the driver’s license to get a better look and then shined it up into Kurt’s face.

Kurt, counting the seconds until they were told to leave and don’t come back for another few years, waved his hand with a bright smile on his face and said, “Aloha!”

The rotund man, slouched on his stool, looking defeated by life in general, shifted his gaze from Kurt to Blaine. His dull, green eyes dipped at the outer edges, his face betraying every expression on his exhausted face. From the way his eyes flicked from the i.d.s back to their faces, Kurt could tell he wasn’t fooled one little bit, but he also looked less thrilled to be at Scandals than Kurt was. Whether out of boredom or complete and total apathy, he handed back their i.d.s and waved them on through.

A delighted Blaine shot through the door, dragging a mortified Kurt behind him.

“See, I told you not to worry,” Blaine said.

“Yeah,” Kurt grumbled under his breath. “Great.”

Kurt had never been to a bar before, not to mention a gay specific bar, and as far as he knew, neither had Blaine, so Kurt was confused as to why Blaine seemed at ease there. He nodded at people and waved, winking at one drag queen dressed in a slinky, gold dress a la Ginger from Gilligan’s Island who turned to him and blew him a kiss.

“Friend of yours?” Kurt asked sarcastically. Blaine led him straight for the bar.

“No,” Blaine denied with a chuckle. “I’m just trying to be friendly. You know, work the room.”

“Okay,” Kurt mouthed. He sat himself on a bar stool that didn’t look too grimy and watched Blaine in action.

“A beer for me, and a Long Island Iced Tea for my boyfriend,” Blaine ordered, putting a crisp twenty dollar bill on the bar.

“Since when do you drink beer?” Kurt asked. “And I can’t drink alcohol. I’m driving.”

“Loosen up, Kurt,” Blaine said, sliding the drink across the bar to Kurt when it arrived. “Let’s be spontaneous and fun.”

“I’m all for spontaneous and fun, but not so much for cleaning vomit out of the upholstery of my car.”

Blaine smirked, clinking his beer bottle in cheers against Kurt’s glass and then bringing the bottle to his lips.

Kurt shrugged. A sip couldn’t hurt. It was surprisingly better than he thought it would be, sweet with the hint of a burn on the finish. Kurt sipped slowly to keep from having it hit him all at once.

Blaine pulled Kurt onto the dance floor, laughing and smiling, bouncing around like the goofball he was when he and Kurt first met. It made Kurt smile in spite of himself to watch him, but whether Blaine was acting this way because of the alcohol affecting him or if he enjoyed being out on a date with him, Kurt didn’t know. Kurt still didn’t understand Blaine’s motives for taking him here of all places. It was dark and dingy, the music was too loud, and the whole place smelled like the boy’s locker room at McKinley, eau de dirty sweat socks and the start of black mold. It was the epitome of everything they detested, basically the complete opposite of anywhere they actually enjoyed going.

Wasn’t it?

As the night wore on, the dance floor got more and more crowded until there was barely any room to move without unintentionally rubbing up against someone else. Kurt couldn’t help but think about the things he could be doing if he wasn’t stuck here. He could be reading, or watching a movie, or playing cards…with Sebastian, drinking coffee in the senior commons…with Sebastian, slow dancing in his room…with Sebastian. Kurt sighed, thinking about swaying back and forth in Sebastian’s arms. Nothing about being out on this date with Blaine made Kurt’s decision making any easier. He prayed that some kind of epiphany hit him hard before Blaine went back to the bar for another beer. He was apparently a tremendous lightweight. He claimed to have had only one beer and yet he could barely stand on his feet. When Blaine tripped for the fifteenth time into the bosom of a drag queen named Pearl Bailey, Kurt decided to call it quits. He grabbed his boyfriend by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Come on, soldier,” Kurt cooed in a flat, disinterested tone. “Let’s get you home.”

“B-but I don’t want to go yet, Kurt.” Blaine stumbled, falling against Kurt’s shoulder, a goofy smile plastered to his face as he gazed into his boyfriend’s stern eyes. Kurt rolled his eyes and looked away.

“Too bad,” Kurt said, trying to support Blaine as best he could and walk at the same time. “I drove us here and I’m leaving.”

Kurt managed to limp Blaine outside, hoping that the cool night air would help sober him up faster.

“This is the best night of my life,” Blaine rambled.

“Okay,” Kurt humored him, negotiating the curb and almost slipping on the slick asphalt.

“It’s the best night of my life,” Blaine repeated emphatically. “I want to live here. I want to live here, and I just want to make art, and help people.”

Blaine turned toward Kurt as he said the word ‘help’, the elongated ‘h’ propelling a wicked smelling cloud of bad beer breath right under Kurt’s nose.

“Woo-hoo,” Kurt laughed, turning away for a breath of fresher air, “well, you can certainly help people make fires with your breath.”

“Hey, come on,” Blaine argued, “I only had one beer.”

“Sure,” Kurt muttered. Kurt led him straight to his Navigator, fumbling for the fob in his pocket as he propped Blaine’s boneless body up against the car.

Blaine looked at Kurt, that devious expression for earlier in the evening returning to his eyes.

“Kiss me,” Blaine insisted, leaning closer to Kurt, blocking his hand from the car door handle.

“No, no, no,” Kurt laughed uneasily.

Blaine wouldn’t take no for an answer, lips latching onto Kurt’s neck, kissing a line up to his ear.

“Kiss me,” he said again, his voice lowering, an attempt at seduction. Kurt swallowed hard at the thin layer of ice laced over those two simple words.

“No, no, no, no,” Kurt chanted with a giggle, trying to push the frightened butterflies away. “Come on, you’re riding in the back.” Kurt reached the handle and yanked the door open, firmly pushing on Blaine’s shoulder to get him inside.

“Alright, alright,” Blaine relented, the goofy smile back, like the same old Blaine again. Kurt sighed in relief.

“Lay down,” he commanded. “You’re less likely to throw up that way.”

“Alright,” Blaine agreed, but he didn’t lie down. He sat on the bench seat and caught the door before Kurt could close it. Kurt bent down to peer into the car, his eyes meeting Blaine’s darkening stare.

“Would…would you sit next to me for a minute?” Blaine implored in a timid voice. “We haven’t really had a moment alone together since we got here.”

Kurt surveyed the empty parking lot around them. He was eager to end the night, to get in the car and drive the hell out of there. Something about Blaine in this place made Kurt wary, but he couldn’t put a finger on exactly why. Blaine seemed different here. The atmosphere changed him. Or had Blaine changed, slowly, day by day, and Kurt hadn’t noticed? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. He looked back down at Blaine, still gazing at him with those pleading, puppy dog eyes that could win anyone over, and he sighed.

“Alright,” Kurt said, giving in and sliding onto the seat beside him, “but only for a minute. We still have a long drive back.” Kurt closed the door behind him, and Blaine locked it with the button on his side. The clicking noise made Kurt jump. It seemed to hit him right at the base of the skull, and make all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Kurt stared at Blaine, eyebrows raised in expectation of the conversation he claimed he wanted to have. Blaine’s eyes shifted left and right, a little uncomfortable with Kurt’s hard stare.

“What?” Blaine said with a shrug.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Kurt reminded him. “So I’m waiting for you to talk.”

“Yeah, we could talk…” Blaine moved in closer, his eyes focusing on Kurt’s lips for a second before returning to his eyes. “Or, we could make out.” Blaine leaned into Kurt’s neck, searching for that spot he knew made Kurt melt.

Kurt tensed at the first touch of Blaine’s lips against his skin. He tried to relax, tried to enjoy himself, but it wasn’t the same. This didn’t feel right. It felt forced, too fast, and angry if that made any sense. Blaine’s hands started to explore over his shoulders and down his arms, which used to send shivers all over Kurt’s body. Now he didn’t want it. He didn’t know if he just didn’t want it now or ever, but he didn’t want it.

“Blaine…” Kurt tried to find space in the back seat of the Navigator to move away. “Blaine, I’m really tired…”

Kurt heard Blaine huff.

“Blaine, I’m not in the mood…”

Blaine retaliated to Kurt’s objections by sucking hard on his neck. Kurt yelped, shoving Blaine away.

“Blaine!”

“Kurt,” Blaine moaned, pulling Kurt back against him, moving his fingers to the buttons of his shirt. Warning bells went off in Kurt’s head, ringing so loudly that they almost drowned out Blaine’s muttering, his constant string of “I want this. I want you. Please, Kurt…”

Kurt had a hard time deciding whether or not he should be upset or scared. He was too confused, fuzzy even though the Long Island Iced Tea had more than burned off already. Wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms he should feel safe and secure, but for some reason he felt far from that.

Was this what Sebastian had been trying to tell him? How did he know?

“Blaine, no,” Kurt said, trying to squeeze out of Blaine’s hands. “No, I don’t want to do this.”

“Kurt, look,” Blaine said, gripping Kurt’s shoulders, sounding irritated by Kurt’s resistance, “ I know you want to do it in a field of lilacs with Sting playing in the background, but this is about us.” Blaine threw the words back at him from a previous conversation, and it made them sound dirty and condescending. Of course he wanted his first time to be special. It wasn’t stupid or childish or unrealistic. How dare Blaine make it sound that way?

“Yeah, that’s right,” Kurt barked back, shoving Blaine again with all his might, hearing the telltale click of the door locks as his elbow hit the door. “It’s about us. Not you drunk, attacking me in the back seat of a car.” Kurt blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair while Blaine watched him, lust-blown eyes sparkling. In that moment, Kurt realized it wasn’t actually about them at all. It was about Blaine - what Blaine wanted, what Blaine needed. Kurt still wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted, but it wasn’t necessarily the boy sitting beside him on the bench seat; not the way he was acting now, anyway.

“I should have listened,” Kurt griped, straightening his shirt, redoing the buttons.

“Listened to whom?” Blaine growled. “To Sebastian? Is that who you should have listened to?”

Suddenly the air in the car changed, charged with Blaine’s mounting anger as his patience began to wane. Blaine’s eyes bored into him, and for the first time that Kurt could ever remember while being with Blaine, Kurt felt afraid.

“Why do you talk to him?” Blaine said, crawling back across to seat. “Why do you lead him on?”

“I’m not…I’m not leading him on,” Kurt defended himself, reaching behind his back and feeling around for the door handle.

“Of course you are,” Blaine said. He caught the movement of Kurt’s hand behind his back, snatching his hand away from the door before he could open it. “You study together, you exchange cute little notes, and then there’s that journal…” Blaine pulled Kurt beneath him while Kurt struggled “…that super, secret journal that the two of you get to share.”

Kurt shoved at Blaine again, but this time Blaine was ready, locking both of Kurt’s wrists in his hands and pinning them behind his back, pressing him into the car seat with his body.

“Blaine!” Kurt screeched, lurching up with his body with every ounce of strength he had in him. It seemed to work. Blaine backed off, moving from his body altogether, even leaving the car in his haste.

Kurt shot up in surprise when he heard another voice sneer, “Do you need to have your hearing checked, hobbit? Your man said no!”

Kurt leapt out of the Navigator at the sound of Sebastian’s voice drowning out a string of curses as Blaine struggled to his feet from where he lay sprawled on the asphalt parking lot.

“I thought we talked about this, Smythe,” Blaine barked, wobbling when he stood, wiping a thin stream of blood from a scratch on his cheek with the back of his hand. “Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?”

Blaine advanced on Sebastian, a left hook aimed deftly at the other boy’s nose, missing by less than a hair when Sebastian jerked back at the last second.

“Yeah, well, I have a problem doing what I’m told.” Sebastian dodged another fist to his face, but this time he swung back, hitting Blaine square on the jaw.

Kurt gasped.

“Stop!” he yelled, stepping forward with his hands raised. “Stop this!”

“No,” Blaine said, shooting a glance Kurt’s way. “No, If Sebastian wants to get his ass beat that badly then I’m more than happy to help him out.”

Blaine came at Sebastian again, and this time his fist hit its mark – a right cross to the jaw, knocking Sebastian back a few steps. He skidded backward, his ankle hitting the curb and he stumbled, threatening to fall over. As soon as Sebastian got his balance, he rushed Blaine, grabbing him around the torso and trying to wrestle him to the ground.

There might have been something hot about two boys fighting over him if it didn’t come with horrible flashbacks of Dave Karofsky hate kissing Kurt in the boys’ locker room, or the fight that ensued after when Sam, Artie, and Mike confronted him and Sam ended up with a black eye. There were too many bad memories for Kurt to deal with, and even though he didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t handle it.

Did it matter who won?

Was he automatically supposed to ride off into the sunset with the victor?

It seemed so barbaric. Kurt wasn’t an object or a trophy. He was a person, and he wanted to be treated like one. Without looking back at the boys grappling on the ground, Kurt jumped into his Navigator, started the engine, and peeled out of the parking lot. Déjà vu struck as he heard his name called out to him in the distance, but he turned onto the road, merged into traffic, and kept on driving.

Kurt felt himself crumble but he couldn’t afford to fall apart, especially not while he was driving, and he couldn’t risk pulling over because he knew he would turn around and go back. He groped blindly for his phone, pulling up the first number in his contacts and hit dial.

He switched it to speakerphone and heard the sound of the phone ringing in the open air, breathing in deep to calm his frazzled nerves, waiting for the voice of the person he needed most.

“Kurt?”

“Dad?” Kurt choked at the sound of his father’s voice.

“Kurt? Buddy?” his dad mumbled, sleep drunk and perplexed. “Is that you?”

“Dad?” Kurt rushed before tears could steal his voice completely. “I’m in Lima.”

“What’s wrong?” His dad sounded instantly awake. “Are you okay?”

Kurt shook his head.

“Dad,” he said, turning onto the highway. “I don’t want to go back to Dalton.” Kurt heaved, swallowing a sob. “I want to come home.”

 


	7. My New Dream of You - Part 5

Kurt’s father was awake, waiting up for Kurt when he pulled his Navigator into the driveway. Kurt didn’t have a chance to sit and mull over the events of the evening alone in the quiet of his car before he had to face his father, and he needed just that. He needed a few minutes to figure out how to keep the world from slipping away underneath his feet before he had to put on a brave face for his dad.

His dad rushed out onto the porch to meet him the second he pulled into the driveway. Kurt took a deep breath and sighed, trying to look confident and impassive…and not at all like he had been crying for the last hour. He took a little extra time locking up his vehicle, grabbing a hold of those precious seconds he would need to steady himself, and then he headed for the house.

Kurt struggled with looking into his father’s worried eyes. He felt that with one look his father would somehow know everything – about the bar, about Blaine’s attempt to force himself on him…about Sebastian. Kurt held his breath, waiting for the inquiry to start, but there was none. His father took one look at his son and didn’t ask him a single question. He pulled Kurt into a bear hug and embraced him, waiting for whatever his son needed to tell him, but Kurt didn’t know how.

Burt held his son, and Kurt let himself be held. After a few tense minutes of silence, father and son made an unspoken decision not to discuss it - whatever _it_ was - for tonight.

Burt led Kurt into the house with a hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you head up to bed, kiddo,” his dad suggested, squeezing his shoulder gently. “We can talk about this all in the morning.”

A stay of execution.

Kurt would definitely take it.

“Thanks, dad,” Kurt said with a grateful nod and headed up the stairs to his room, craving the comfort that the trappings of his pre-Dalton life would offer him. He wanted to forget about it all for a while, and his bedroom – his sanctuary – seemed like the best place to do that.

Kurt thought that falling asleep in his own bed would be as easy as getting into his pajamas, climbing under the covers, and turning out the lights, but it didn’t quite work out that way. He lay awake in the darkness with his phone by his pillow, waiting for any word that Sebastian and Blaine hadn’t killed each other in that parking lot or ended up in jail. He needed to know that they were okay.

Especially Sebastian.

Kurt had reached the end of his rope with Blaine. Perhaps he had reached it a long time ago but he didn’t know how to deal with it so he hid behind second chance after second chance – so many more second chances than Blaine actually deserved.

And apparently Blaine felt that he deserved a few more.

The texts started at 2 a.m., and every single one of them was from Blaine.

_2:00 A.M._

_To: Kurt_

_From: Blaine_

_Where are you? Are you okay? Please call me when you get this. I need to know you’re okay._

_2:06 A.M._

_To: Kurt_

_From: Blaine_

_I don’t understand what’s going on. What did I do wrong? Please, call me back. We can work this out. I promise._

_2:15 A.M._

_To: Kurt_

_From: Blaine_

_Can you please let me know you aren’t dead on the side of the road? Can you text me and let me know that so I can go to sleep?_

 

 _Nice, Blaine,_ Kurt thought. _So that_ you _can go to sleep, because heavens knows that you being able to sleep is all that matters._

A couple of minutes after Blaine’s last text, Kurt heard the house phone ring. Kurt grabbed his comforter tight and yanked it up over his head. He hadn’t told his dad that he didn’t want to talk to Blaine or see him, so of course his dad would tell Blaine that Kurt was home and attempt to wake him.

Kurt’s dad liked Blaine, and that made Kurt feel even worse about this whole fiasco.

Kurt held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut tight when he heard his dad walk up the stairs to his room.

The knock on the door nearly stopped Kurt’s heart.

“Kurt?” Burt called through the door. Kurt didn’t answer. A pang of guilt hit his heart hard like a mallet hitting a gong, but Kurt couldn’t let his dad know he was awake.

He couldn’t talk to Blaine.

Kurt heard the door creak open a crack.

“Kurt?” his father called again into the dark room. “Kurt? It’s Blaine on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”

Kurt continued to feign sleep while his father watched. To Kurt, pretending to be asleep felt as bad as lying to his father’s face. Kurt wasn’t completely convinced that he fooled his dad, but a moment later he heard his father speak into the phone.

“I’m sorry, Blaine, but he’s already asleep…no, I don’t think stopping by in the morning would be the best idea. He’s pretty shaken up…no, he didn’t tell me what happened. Would you like to?...Yes, I’ll give Kurt the message that you called. Good-bye, Blaine.”

Kurt heard his dad hang up the phone and Kurt gave himself permission to breathe.

Kurt heard his phone buzz again. His first instinct was to shut the damned thing off and stick it in a drawer for the remainder of the night, but he had a strange feeling (or maybe it was a hope) that this time it wasn’t Blaine texting.

Kurt looked at the message alert on the screen.

It was from Sebastian.

Kurt nearly fumbled the phone to the floor with the speed which he grabbed it to read the message.

 

_2:23 A.M._

_To: Kurt_

_From: Sebastian_

_Just texting to see that you’re safe._

 

Kurt held the phone in his hands, reading the brief message over again. He wanted to send Sebastian a text back, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk, as shameful and ungrateful as that sounded. Kurt didn’t abide by senseless violence, but apart from the evening ending in a fist fight, Sebastian’s intention for driving all the way out to _Scandals_ was to make sure that Kurt was safe.

Sebastian saved Kurt from Blaine.

Not that Kurt _needed_ saving. Kurt was confident he could have defended himself well enough.

But it was nice to know that Sebastian cared.

So, Kurt gave Sebastian what he was willing to give for the moment.

 

_2:27 A.M._

_To: Sebastian_

_From: Kurt_

_I’m fine. Thank you for everything._

 

Kurt tried to send the message three times but it wouldn’t go through. He decided to try one more time. It finally went through, but another text crossed its path and hit Kurt’s phone immediately afterward.

 

_2:27 A.M._

_To: Kurt_

_From: Sebastian_

_I’ll be thinking about you tonight. I wish you were here._

 

Kurt gasped. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something over and over and yell, “It’s not fucking fair!!”

Kurt had made a decision about all of this on the drive home. It wasn’t solidified, wasn’t definitive…but it kind of was.

And this last text from Sebastian didn’t make going through with his decision any easier.

***

“I’ll kill him,” Burt said, pacing the floor of the living room after Kurt told his father what had happened the night before. “I’ll beat the crap out of him and bury him under the porch.”

“No, dad,” Kurt said. “No, it’s not worth it.”

Kurt wanted to rush to his dad’s side and sit him down in his recliner, remind him about his weak heart and how he needed to stay calm, but he couldn’t. His father needed to vent, heart condition or no. Burt Hummel was allowed to be angry.

“So, is this asshat the reason why you want to leave Dalton?” his father asked, running a hand over his head for the 90th time in the last half hour.

“Not the entire reason,” Kurt contended. His father shot him a skeptical look, but Kurt held his ground. “Not even the biggest reason.”

Burt sighed, stopping his pacing and staring down at his feet.

Carole, sitting on the sofa opposite where Kurt sat in an armchair chair, looked from her husband to her stepson.

“Well, shouldn’t we go to the police?” she asked, wringing her hands in her lap, caught someplace between indecision and action.

Carole knew going to the police was the right thing to do.

She also knew that she wanted to drive out to Westerville and strangle someone unconscious with her own two hands.

But she maintained her calm for her husband, who had a vein throbbing in his neck so badly that it looked like it wanted to explode.

Kurt bristled at the thought of going to the police. What would the police be able to do? And what about the scuffle between Blaine and Sebastian? If that matter hadn’t already been dealt with, would Blaine use it as an excuse to get back at him?

If Kurt went after Blaine, would Blaine go after Sebastian?

“I think that we should,” Burt said, somewhat unconvincingly. From the hopeless look on his face, Kurt knew his dad was having some of the same thoughts as he was. What would the police do? Would they take Kurt seriously? Kurt wasn’t physically injured and he hadn’t been…raped (Kurt supplied in his mind, swallowing hard). Provided that the police department in Ohio wasn’t full of bigots, was there anything legally that they _could_ do?

“It’s Sunday,” Burt said, making the announcement as if it were the start of a plan. “Let’s go talk to the police first before we hit Westerville, and if we’re not satisfied by what they have to say, I’ll…I’ll consult a lawyer.”

Burt sighed long, dropping down on the couch beside his wife, and Carole wasted no time wrapping her arms around her husband’s sagging shoulders.

Kurt sat back in his chair, his eyes glued to his father’s careworn face. He didn’t mean to cause his dad this much trouble. Maybe he should have gone back to Dalton and kept this to himself, except that ignoring what happened and letting it blow over didn’t feel right – not only on the level where it affected Kurt personally, but in a place where he owed it to other future boyfriends of Blaine Anderson to know exactly what that boy had put him through.

Forgetting might be easy, but rarely is the easy thing the right thing to do.

Kurt, Burt, Carole, and Finn all climbed into Kurt’s navigator after breakfast and headed to the Lima Police Department. They were met by an Officer Palesko – a man in his mid-forties who was surprisingly sympathetic to Kurt’s situation (having a gay son himself). He told Kurt that he was brave for coming forward, that despite anything that anyone might tell him, it was absolutely the right thing to do…

But…

That’s when Kurt’s heart sank. He had expected it; he hadn’t let his hopes get too high.

It still stung, though.

There wasn’t much that they could do other than to file a police report about the incident and send an officer out to the school to talk to Blaine. Officer Palesko was nice enough to look up any possible calls into the department from last night/early that morning. No one from the bar reported any incident in the parking lot involving two young men. No 9-1-1 calls had been made with regard to anything going on at _Scandals_ or the general vicinity.

It seemed like the only person concerned about a situation in that part of town was Kurt.

Which made Kurt wonder - how _did_ the fight between Blaine and Sebastian end?

Probably between their dads, Kurt imagined. Blaine’s father was the CEO of some company (Kurt could never remember which company or what they made or did – the Andersons didn’t seem too fond of Kurt, so he didn’t hang out at Blaine’s house too often), and Sebastian’s dad was a state’s attorney. Kurt figured that neither man wanted to see their son behind bars.

Whatever happened between them, it was probably settled ‘under the table’, as it were.

The officer recommended filing a restraining order if Kurt felt he was in any danger, but Kurt wasn’t entirely sure it was worth it. He promised his dad that he would think it over, though Burt was still determined he would be consulting a lawyer the next morning.

It was late afternoon before Kurt and his family traveled to Westerville to pick up Kurt’s things. Kurt knew that both Blaine and Sebastian would have left for home like they always did on Sunday, and he was glad. He didn’t feel like he owed Blaine an explanation. Not after what he did. But Sebastian deserved better than for Kurt to simply disappear in the night. He wanted to say good-bye to Sebastian in person – he owed him that - but he didn’t have the strength to run into either boy right now.

Five minutes away from the dorms, Kurt received a text from Blaine.

_To: Kurt_

_From: Blaine_

_I know you’re on your way to Dalton. I canceled dinner with my parents. I need to talk to you when you get here._

 

Kurt’s whole body seized up when he read the message. How the fuck did Blaine know? Kurt told no one. Blaine most likely assumed, and unfortunately he was right.

The Dalton campus was an unusual hive of activity for a Sunday evening when Kurt’s father pulled his Navigator onto the grounds. There were a crowd of Warblers gathered by the double doors, waiting to find out why their fellow choir member and friend was about to drop out of Dalton – though most of them already knew.

This wasn’t something that was going to be easy to sweep away.

Almost immediately Kurt saw Blaine break away from the crowd and rush his car. Kurt tried not to make eye contact with him, but from the corner of his eye Kurt could see the black bruise swelling his left eye shut, the cut on his cheek, and his upper lip split in two places.

 _Christ_! Kurt thought. When Kurt had left, the two had only gotten a few hits in. Kurt wondered what Sebastian looked like in comparison. He hoped that Sebastian had fared better.

“Kurt,” Blaine called out, trying to see him through the open window, craning to look past Finn’s upper body. “Kurt! I’m so glad you’re okay. Why didn’t you call me when you got home? I was so worried about you.”

“Not now, dude,” Finn said, moving his body to block Blaine’s view of Kurt and fixing Blaine with the most intimidating glare he could muster. “Kurt doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Blaine looked comically shocked by Finn’s reluctance to help him talk to Kurt. He stood with his one good eye open wide as Burt parked Kurt’s SUV in front of the dorms.

“Kurt,” Blaine continued, not swayed by Finn’s warning. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

Burt stepped out from the vehicle, moving in front of Kurt’s window to confront Blaine when the boy came around to the driver’s side of the Navigator.

“I think it would be best if you went inside, Blaine, and left Kurt alone,” Burt said. Blaine opened his mouth to object, but when he saw Burt’s jaw locked and his hands balled into fists at his sides, Blaine closed his mouth. He took a step back, but he wouldn’t leave.

Burt glared down at Blaine. Blaine stared pleadingly back, and Kurt knew he would have to intervene, but he was saved by the quite wisdom of Jeff Sterling.

“Come on, man,” Jeff said, putting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and tugging him away gently. “Just go inside. Let him go.”

Blaine’s eyes shifted to the right of Burt’s body, catching a sliver of space where he could stare straight into Kurt’s eyes, but Kurt turned away. He couldn’t look at Blaine. This wasn’t his Blaine. The boy he thought was perfect, the boy he thought he could fall in love with, either disappeared months ago…or he never existed.

Either way, the Blaine Anderson chapter of Kurt’s life was over.

Blaine let Jeff pull him away, shaking his head in disbelief, muttering something to Jeff that Kurt couldn’t hear.

“I know,” Jeff said with a sigh, turning back to the Navigator and giving Kurt a tiny wave and a fond smile.

Kurt raised a hand and waved back.

Kurt would miss Jeff.

He would miss Nick, and Trent, and Thad, and Wes, and all of the Warblers.

Mostly, Kurt would miss…

“Sebastian?” Kurt lifted his eyes at the sound of Hunter calling Sebastian’s name. There he was, standing in the spot that Blaine had vacated, sad green eyes staring at Kurt. His right eye was swollen – not to the extent that Blaine’s was, but still the skin looked puffy and marked by a shiny indigo bruise. He had what looked like road rash on his chin and his lip was also split, but in one spot instead of two.

“Do you want me to get rid of this one, too?” Kurt’s father asked, turning over his shoulder but keeping an eye on Sebastian as he spoke to his son.

“No,” Kurt said, unlocking and opening the door. “No, _him_ I want to talk to.”

“Alright.” His dad stepped aside so Kurt could get out. “I’m going to go talk to the dean while Carole and Finn go get your stuff. Are you going to be okay out here alone?”

Kurt’s eyes met Sebastian’s gaze, and Kurt smiled.

“Yeah, dad,” he said. “I’m going to be fine.”

Burt watched his son walk up to the strange boy, waiting a moment to be sure he would be okay, before he turned and followed his wife into the dorms.

Sebastian watched Kurt walk up to him with guarded eyes, his mouth set in a firm line.

“Hey,” Kurt said, not sure where to start.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question. Sebastian knew. His words sounded dry and defeated.

It matched the way he felt.

“Yeah.” All of a sudden Kurt wished there was another way.

“So, I wanted you to choose between him and me, and you chose neither,” Sebastian said bitterly, lifting his head past Kurt’s gaze to look off into the distance.

“No,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “I chose _me_.”

For many different reasons Kurt had been teetering on the edge of this decision for a while now, but Blaine and the fight was the catalyst that tipped him over the edge. Kurt loved Dalton. He really did. The classes were harder, but the kids were nicer. There was no denying the school had other perks as well. Kurt looked up to see the biggest one standing in front of him with downcast eyes. But from the first day he put on that Dalton blazer, little by little, Kurt had begun to feel his individuality slip away.

Kurt was drowning there. He needed to break away from the safety net. He needed to stop hiding.

“This isn’t about you, Seb…” Kurt reached out a hand and carefully put it to Sebastian’s cheek, “and believe it or not, it’s not about Blaine either. _”_ Kurt shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I have to go somewhere where I can concentrate on _me_ for a while.”

Sebastian nodded.

“I understand,” he said, backing away, each step tearing pieces from Kurt’s heart.

Kurt couldn’t let him go yet. He had a few minutes left here at Dalton and he knew how he wanted to spend them.

Kurt stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s waist. Sebastian stopped walking. He groaned, his voice thick like he was about to cry. He struggled a bit, but Kurt held on tight, and eventually Sebastian gave in and melted around him.

Sebastian held Kurt so tightly that his arms trembled. He pressed kisses in Kurt’s hair and whispered things Kurt couldn’t hear, but then again, maybe Sebastian didn’t want him to. Burt and Finn shot them confused looks as they walked out to the Navigator with Kurt’s things, and when Carole saw them together, she sighed.

After the last of Kurt’s things were safely stowed into the trunk, Burt waited as long as he could before he broke up the pair.

“Kurt,” he said, clearing his throat, “we have to go.”

“Yeah,” Kurt called back, nodding against Sebastian’s chest. “I know. I’ll be right there.”

Sebastian took Kurt’s hands in his and looked into Kurt’s face, his eyes soaking in every detail. Kurt thought Sebastian was going to kiss him. He was completely prepared to be kissed…and Sebastian did. He lifted Kurt’s hands to his face and kissed across his knuckles – one hand, then the other. While he did, he pressed a square piece of paper in the palm of Kurt’s hand.

“Uh…I wrote this when I got back this morning,” Sebastian confessed. “I didn’t really know what to say. I didn’t know if you would ever talk to me again. I didn’t know you would be leaving, but it doesn’t matter. I mean every word of it, so please…consider it.” He placed one last kiss to the back of Kurt’s hand and whispered, “Two hours away isn’t all that far.”

Kurt’s lips twitched, holding back a sob. He reached up to touch Sebastian’s face again but this time Sebastian dropped Kurt’s hands and walked away, not willing to indulge in this pain any longer.

Kurt watched him go. Sebastian didn’t head back to the dorms. He walked around the corner of the building and disappeared from sight. Kurt felt a hand on his shoulder; this time it was Carole.

“Come on, sweetie,” she said. “Did you want to go give your room a once over?”

“No,” Kurt said.

“Then, it’s time we got going.”

Carole held Kurt’s arm as he turned and walked back to the Navigator. He climbed into the back seat and shut the door. Holding the note in his hand, he rested his head against the window and shut his eyes. He didn’t fall asleep. He just didn’t want to talk to anyone on the ride home. He didn’t want his family to ask questions he didn’t have the answers to.

Back in Lima, they unloaded Kurt’s things from his SUV and carried them to his room. Kurt spent a few hours before bedtime gearing up to start over again at McKinley High.

“It’ll be great,” Finn reassured him before turning in for the night. “Everyone misses you. It’ll be great to have to whole group back together again.”

Kurt wanted to agree, and earlier that morning he would have, but now it didn’t feel the same. He didn’t say that to Finn. He thanked Finn and wished him good-night, plastering a tired smile on his face to appease his stepbrother.

Kurt waited until he climbed into bed before he opened Sebastian’s letter and read it.

_Dear Kurt –_

_I want to say I’m sorry. God, I owe you so many of those, I think that’s how I should start all of our conversations from now on until I catch up. “Hello, Kurt. How have you been? By the way, I’m sorry. Did you get the answer to question 19?”_

_I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I’m sorry for all the awful things I said. I don’t really have an explanation other than I’m kind of an ass and I don’t know how to deal with these things called ‘feelings’. I’ve never really had to before._

_But there are some things I’ll admit I’m not sorry for._

_I’m not sorry you found my journal._

_I’m not sorry that I finally got to tell you how I feel._

_And no matter what I might have said to the contrary, I’ll never be sorry that I met you._

_I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but I’ll be honest and say that I hope you dump Blaine. If you do, please consider me as an alternative._

_I would consider it an honor to take you out for coffee sometime._

_Sincerely;_

_Sebastian Smythe_

Kurt spent an hour rereading Sebastian’s letter. It was a good thing he didn’t read it at Dalton. Those words might have had the power to break him.

Kurt folded the letter carefully and tucked it under his pillow. He turned off his phone and put it in the drawer to his bedside dresser. He emptied his head and dreamt of nothing. He let the kisses on his hands turn into scars, like all of the other kisses Sebastian had given him.

The only thing that kept him from crying himself to sleep was the last thing Sebastian said – _“Two hours away isn’t all that far.”_

***

Kurt thought the halls of McKinley would feel like home to him again, like being welcomed back by an old friend, and to a degree it did. He slipped into his own comfortable and fashionable armor of retro McQueen and Vivienne Westwood, and prowled the halls with his head held high, knowing that nothing McKinley could throw at him could break him.

Yes, McKinley was familiar, from the sound of his shoes clicking down the linoleum floors in the halls to the smell of new sheet music in the choir room.

But Dalton had a claim on his heart that no other place had, and the more Kurt thought about it, the more he felt out of place again.

It had been two weeks since Kurt had left Dalton and he hadn’t heard from Sebastian. Blaine texted him from time to time. At first, he begged him to come back, that he was sorry, that he would change, that he would be better. He recorded songs and left them on Kurt’s voice mail. But over time Blaine must have realized that same-old same-old wasn’t working, but instead of changing his tactics, he gave up.

That was fine by Kurt. At this point, he didn’t care if he never heard from Blaine again.

Kurt had returned to McKinley in time to join the Glee Club on their way to Nationals, and he had a lot of catching up to do. Throwing himself into practicing was a good way to keep his mind off of…well, off of other things. He showed up to school early every morning to use the piano in the choir room – and to generally get away from prying eyes and ears.

If there was one thing he missed about Dalton, it was the independence. In the comfort of his own room, he answered to no one, and even though he enjoyed being surrounded by family again, there was something to be said about nursing a broken heart alone.

It was on a Thursday morning when Kurt arrived to school early to practice that remnants of his old life started to invade on his rehabilitated one. As he turned the corner to the row of lockers in the hall in front of the choir room, Kurt saw a flash of Dalton blue. His heart skipped in his chest. He sped down the hallway, but whoever was sporting that familiar blazer had already gone. Kurt peeked out the doors to the parking lot, but saw no one - only a few other early morning McKinley students. No one in a uniform. No one even wearing a similar shade of blue.

“Se-Sebastian?” Kurt called out, just in case, but nobody answered.

Kurt walked back to his locker, hoping he was right, wishing for a new note, but when he dialed in the combination and pulled opened the red metal door, he frowned.

Standing wedged between his French book and his AP Calculus book were two perfect roses – one yellow, one red.

Exactly like all the ones Blaine had given him so many times before.

 _Blaine_.

 _It can’t be_ , he thought. Kurt glowered at the roses. He loathed them. He didn’t want to touch them. He pulled his French textbook out far enough to tip the roses out of the locker and onto the floor. Then he stomped on them, twisting his foot to annihilate the petals.

Then he stormed away.

That evening, Kurt told his father that he wanted to file for a restraining order.

After that, days passed with no roses and no phantom blazers racing down the hall, but it also came with no texts from Sebastian. His heart sank. Kurt knew that Sebastian had put the ball into his court, but he was hoping for a little something extra. Maybe it was unfair to want it, but he did.

He was hoping for a sign.

With Nationals a week away, all thoughts of notes and roses were forced to the side as Kurt tried to remember in which direction he was supposed to sway behind Rachel Berry in the background when it happened.

Kurt caught him, and it was unexpected for both of them.

There he stood, with his hand inside Kurt’s locker, and his jaw dropped, his lips forming a ridiculous ‘o’ shape as he froze in his spot.

Kurt could feel his insides boil as he advanced with heavy footsteps, yelling from halfway down the hall.

“So, it was you!” Kurt yelled accusingly, tearing the door to his locker out of the Dalton boy’s hand. “You put the roses in my locker?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said sheepishly, looking down at his shoes. “Yeah, I did.”

Kurt scoffed, and Sebastian’s eyes narrowed on him, his sheepish gaze turning into a glare.

“You don’t have to be so fucking angry about it!”

“No,” Kurt said quickly, trying to explain without sounding annoyed, “it’s not that. It’s…Blaine…always gave me red and yellow roses.”

“I know,” Sebastian admitted. “That’s how I got the idea. I thought they were your favorite.”

Kurt bit his lip at Sebastian’s deduction, deciding not to mention that the last ones Sebastian gave him had been stomped into mulch.

“Sterlings are my favorite, actually,” Kurt said. He reached past Sebastian to grab the twin roses, bringing them up to his nose and giving them a sniff.

Sebastian smirked.

“Of course they are,” Sebastian said. “They’re only the most difficult frickin’ rose to get in butt-fuck Ohio.”

“Are you saying I’m not worth it?” Kurt sneered.

“No.” Sebastian shook his head with a sincere expression. “You’re worth it. You’re definitely worth it.”

Kurt sighed into the flowers beneath his nose, looking down into their red and yellow petals.

“You haven’t texted me,” Kurt said. “I thought…I thought after everything you said…”

“Well, you didn’t text me either,” Sebastian interrupted. “I waited for anything. Any word from you…”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I really am.”

Kurt sighed and looked around them, as if only now remembering that they were standing together in a hallway at McKinley and not at Dalton. “Why are you here?”

Sebastian shrugged.

“I remember what Blaine said used to happen to you at this school, and I feel kind of guilty…” Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. “Like, despite what you said, _I’m_ the reason why you’re back here; that I pushed you out of Dalton.”

Kurt smiled at the sound of Sebastian’s discomfort.

“Aww, the tin man has a heart after all,” Kurt teased.

“What heart?” Sebastian replied, pretending to look offended. Kurt rolled his eyes and Sebastian laughed. “Okay, well maybe it was killing me…the idea of people fucking with you,” Sebastian confessed, “people other than me, that is.”

“I knew it,” Kurt said, leaning with his back against the locker and staring up at the ceiling.

Sebastian looked at Kurt, running his eyes down Kurt’s profile, biting his lip at the handsome figure he cut in his stylish clothes – not confined by a stupid uniform.

“So, if we started dating, would that be your nickname for me? Tin man?” Sebastian asked, his lips curling up in that enticing smirk Kurt used to abhor. Kurt wondered how Sebastian would react if he leaned in and kissed it off his face.

“Do you hate it?” Kurt asked, scrunching his nose.

Sebastian chuckled.

“No,” he said. “Actually, I kind of like it.”

“Good to know,” Kurt said, reaching out a hand and shutting his locker door. “So, _tin man_ , would you like to go grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Sebastian looked around them, at the relatively empty hallways and the closed classroom doors.

“What, you mean now?” he asked.

Kurt nodded.

“Why not? Even if you leave now, you’re still going to be late for school, so what do you have to lose?”

“Well, aren’t _you_ supposed to be in class right now?” Sebastian countered.

“Pfft.” Kurt waved a hand in front of his face. “I go to public school. We’re all a bunch of rule breakers and miscreants here. No one will miss me.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. Kurt tried his hardest to keep a straight face, but he broke.

“I have P.E. first period,” Kurt said. “I couldn’t care less if I missed it.”

Sebastian shook his head.

“Well, then,” he said, “let us away.”

Sebastian offered his arm to Kurt, and Kurt took it, resting his hand on Sebastian’s bicep, enjoying the feeling of holding onto him this way. They walked down the hallway together, the sparse students lingering by their lockers eying them as they headed toward the exit.

“Oh.” Sebastian stopped when they had walked through the double doors. “There’s one more thing.”

He turned Kurt to face him. He crooked a finger beneath Kurt’s chin, tipping his head up, and kissed him – kissed him the way he had been dreaming of kissing Kurt since he wrote the first words in that stupid journal.

The journal that was currently hiding - with all of its confessions and poems, with new additions stuck to the pages - inside Kurt’s messenger bag.

Kurt felt Sebastian wrap an arm around his waist. Sebastian ran his fingertips lightly over the small of Kurt’s back. When Sebastian sucked Kurt’s lower lip into his mouth, he moaned.

This was the kiss Kurt had been hoping for the night he left Dalton.

He didn’t want it to end, and when Sebastian began to move away, Kurt whimpered.

“Are we at that point yet?” Kurt asked, sighing against Sebastian’s lips.

“Mmm, maybe not yet,” Sebastian said. “So, maybe we save that one for later, and this one’s for now.”

Sebastian kissed Kurt again, and Kurt kissed him back.

A first kiss of many.

 

 


End file.
